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THE   GESTE  OF  DUKE  JOCELYN 


1 


Wy  Jftttttty  ifamol 

The  Bboad  Highway 

The  Amateur  Gentleman 

The  Honourable  Mb.  Tawnish 

Beltane  the  Smith 

The  Definite  Object 

Gbeat  Britain  at  Wab 

Our  Admirable  Betty 

The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Cobles  of  Bvocclauntoe,  salute  gcuir  Ductless  JSolantor." 

JFvontispicrc     Sff  pace  2ol 


^Ufrtg,*eroiant  and^bmpamj 


ras 


Copyright,  1920, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  September,  1920 


Nortooott  $rt«s 

S«t  up  and  electrotyped  by  J.  S.  Cushing  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


My  gillian,  thou  child  that  budding  woman  art 

For  whom  to-day  and  yesterday  lie  far  apart 

Already  thou,  my  dear,  dost  longer  dresses  wear 

And  bobbest  in  most  strange,  new-fangled  ways  thy  hair ; 

Thou  lookest  on  the  world  with  eyes  grown  serious 

And  rul'st  thy  father  with  a  sway  imperious 

Particularly  as  regards  his  socks  and  ties 

Insistent  that  each  with  the  other  harmonise. 

Instead  of  simple  fairy-tales  that  pleased  of  yore 

Romantic  verse  thou  read'st  and  novels  by  the  score 

And  very  oft  I  've  known  thee  sigh  and  call  them  "stuff" 

Vowing  of  love  romantic  they  've  not  half  enough. 

Wherefore,  like  fond  and  doting  parent,  I 

Will  strive  this  want  romantic  to  supply. 

I  '11  write  for  thee  a  book  of  sighing  lover 

Crammed  with  romance  from  cover  unto  cover ; 

A  book  the  like  of  which  't  were  hard  to  find 

Filled  with  romance  of  every  sort  and  kind. 

I  '11  write  it  as  the  Gestours  wrote  of  old, 

In  prose,  blank-verse,  and  rhyme  it  shall  be  told. 

And  GILLIAN  — 
Some  day  perhaps,  my  dear,  when  you  are  grown 
A  portly  dame  with  children  of  your  own 
You  '11  gather  all  your  troop  about  your  knee 
And  read  to  them  this  Geste  I  made  for  thee. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Nobles  of  Brocelaunde,  salute  your  Duchess 

Yolande" Frontispiece 

They  saw  afar  the  town  of  Canalise 

"Brave  soldier,  I  do  thank  thee  well!"  she 
sighed       ....... 

"Hush,  poor  Motley !"  whispered  the  maid    . 

With  mighty  bound,  bold  Robin  leaping  came 

The  long  blades  whirled  and  flashed 


PAGE 

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182 

Vll 


PRELUDE 

Long,  long  ago  when  castles  grim  did  frown, 

When  massy  wall  and  gate  did  'fend  each  town ; 

When  mighty  lords  in  armour  bright  were  seen, 

And  stealthy  outlaws  lurked  amid  the  green 

And  oft  were  hanged  for  poaching  of  the  deer, 

Or,  gasping,  died  upon  a  hunting  spear ; 

When  barons  bold  did  on  their  rights  insist 

And  hanged  or  burned  all  rogues  who  dared  resist ; 

When  humble  folk  on  life  had  no  freehold 

And  were  in  open  market  bought  and  sold ; 

When  grisly  witches  (lean  and  bony  hags) 

Cast  spells  most  dire  yet,  meantime,  starved  in  rags ; 

When  kings  did  lightly  a-crusading  fare 

And  left  their  kingdoms  to  the  devil's  care  — 

At  such  a  time  there  lived  a  noble  knight 

Who  sweet  could  sing  and  doughtily  could  fight, 

Whose  lance  thrust  strong,  whose  long  sword  bit 

full  deep 
With  darting  point  or  mighty  two-edged  sweep. 
A  duke  was  he,  rich,  powerful  —  and  yet 
Fate  had  on  him  a  heavy  burden  set, 
For,  while  a  youth,  as  he  did  hunt  the  boar, 
The  savage  beast  his  goodly  steed  did  gore, 
And  as  the  young  duke  thus  defenceless  lay, 
With  cruel  tusk  had  reft  his  looks  away, 
Had  marred  his  comely  features  and  so  mauled  him 
That,  'hind  his  back,  "The  ugly  Duke"  folk  called 

him 

My  daughter  gillian  interposeth : 

Gill  :        An  ugly  hero  ? 
Myself  :  That  is  so. 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Gill  :        An  ugly  hero,  father  ?     0,  absurd  ! 

Whoever  of  an  "ugly"  hero  heard? 
Myself  :  I  '11  own,    indeed,    I  've    come    across    but 

few 

Gill  :        But  a  duke  —  and  ugly  !     Father,  this  from 

you? 
Myself:  My  duke  is  ugly,  very,  for  good  reason, 

As  shall  appear  in  due  and  proper  season  ! 
Gill  :        I  'm  sure  no  one  will  want  to  read  him  then, 

For  "heroes"  all  should  be  most  handsome 
men. 

So  make  him  handsome,  please,  or  he  won't  do. 
Myself  :  By  heaven,  girl  —  no,  plain  heroes  are  too 

few! 
Gill  :        Then  ev'ry  one  will  leave  him  on  the  shelf  ! 
Myself  :  Why,  then,  I  '11  read  the  poor  fellow  myself. 
Gill  :        I  won't ! 
Myself  :  Then  don't ! 

Though,  I  might  say,  since  you  're  set  on  it, 
child, 

My  duke  was  not  so  ugly  when  he  smiled 

Gill  :        Then  make  him  smile  as  often  as  you  can. 
Myself  :  I  might  do  that,  't  is  none  so  bad  a  plan. 
Gill  :        And  the  lady  —  she  must  be  a  lady  fair. 
Myself  :  My  dear,  she  's  beautiful  beyond  compare. 

Gill  :        Why,  then 

Myself  :  My  pen  ! 

So  here  and  now  I  do  begin 
The  tale  of  young  Duke  Jocelyn, 
For  critics,  schools, 
And  cramping  rules, 
Heedless  and  caring  not  a  pin. 

The  title  here  behold 
On  this  fair  page  enrolled, 
In  letters  big  and  bold, 
As  seemeth  fit  — 
To  wit :  — 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 


FYTTE  1 

Upon  a  day,  but  when  it  matters  not, 
Nor  where,  but  mark !   the  sun  was  plaguy  hot 
Falling  athwart  a  long  and  dusty  road 
In  which  same  dust  two  dusty  fellows  strode. 
One  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  goodly  wight 
In  garb  of  motley  like  a  jester  dight, 
Fool's  cap  on  head  with  ass's  ears  a-swing, 
While,  with  each  stride,  his  bells  did  gaily  ring ; 
But,  'neath  his  cock's-comb  showed  a  face  so  marred 
With  cheek,  with  brow  and  lip  so  strangely  scarred 
As  might  scare  tender  maid  or  timid  child 
Unless,  by  chance,  they  saw  him  when  he  smiled, 
For  then  his  eyes,  so  deeply  blue  and  bright, 
Did  hold  in  them  such  joyous,  kindly  light, 
That  sorrow  was  from  heavy  hearts  beguiled  — 
This  jester  seemed  less  ugly  when  he  smiled. 

Here,  O  my  Gill,  right  deftly,  in  a  trice 

I  've  made  him  smile  and  made  him  do  it  —  twice. 

That  't  was  the  Duke  of  course  you  've  guessed  at  once 

Since  you,  I  know,  are  nothing  of  a  dunce. 

But,  what  should  bring  a  duke  in  cap  and  bells  ? 

Read  on  and  mark,  while  he  the  reason  tells. 

Now,  'spite  of  dust  and  heat,  his  lute  he  strummed, 
And  snatches  of  a  merry  song  he  hummed, 
The  while  askance  full  merrily  he  eyed 
The  dusty  knave  who  plodded  at  his  side. 
A  bony  fellow,  this,  and  long  of  limb, 

3 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

His  habit  poor,  his  aspect  swart  and  grim ; 
His  belt  to  bear  a  long  broad-sword  did  serve, 
His  eye  was  bold,  his  nose  did  fiercely  curve 
Down  which  he  snorted  oft  and  (what  is  worse) 
Beneath  his  breath  gave  vent  to  many  a  curse. 
Whereat    the    Duke,    sly    laughing,    plucked    lute- 
string 
And  thus,  in  voice  melodious  did  sing : 

"  Sir  Pertinax,  why  curse  ye  so  ? 
Since  thus  in  humble  guise  we  go 
We  merry  chances  oft  may  know, 
Sir  Pertinax  of  Shene." 

"And  chances  woeful,  lord,  also !" 
Quoth  Pertinax  of  Shene. 

"To  every  fool  that  passeth  by 
These  foolish  bells  shall  testify 
That  very  fool,  forsooth,  am  I, 
Good  Pertinax  of  Shene  !" 

"And,  lord,  methinks  they  '11  tell  no  lie !" 
Growled  Pertinax  of  Shene. 

Then  spake  the  Knight  in  something  of  a  pet, 

"Par  Dex,  lord  Duke  —  plague  take  it,  how  I  sweat, 

By  Cock,  messire,  ye  know  I  have  small  lust 

Like  hind  or  serf  to  tramp  it  i'  the  dust ! 

Per  De,  my  lord,  a  parch-ed  pea  am  I  — 

I  'm  all  athirst !  Athirst  ?     I  am  so  dry 

My  very  bones  do  rattle  to  and  fro 

And  jig  about  within  me  as  I  go ! 

Why  tramp  we  thus,  bereft  of  state  and  rank  ? 

Why  go  ye,  lord,  like  foolish  mountebank  ? 

And  whither  doth  our  madcap  journey  trend  ? 

And  wherefore?  Why?  And,  prithee,  to  what  end?" 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Then  quoth  the  Duke,  "See  yonder  in  the  green 

Doth  run  a  cooling  water-brook  I  ween, 

Come,  Pertinax,  beneath  yon  shady  trees, 

And  there  whiles  we  do  rest  outstretched  at  ease 

Thy  'wherefores'  and  thy  'whys'  shall  answered  be, 

And  of  our  doings  I  will  counsel  thee." 

So  turned  they  from  the  hot  and  dusty  road 
Where,  'mid  green  shade,  a  rill  soft-bubbling  flowed, 
A  brook  that  leapt  and  laughed  in  roguish  wise, 
Whereat  Sir  Pertinax  with  scowling  eyes 
Did  frown  upon  the  rippling  water  clear, 
And  sware  sad  oaths  because  it  was  not  beer ; 
Sighful  he  knelt  beside  this  murmurous  rill, 
Bent  steel-clad  head  and  bravely  drank  his  fill. 
Then  sitting  down,  quoth  he:   "By  Og  and  Gog, 
I  '11  drink  no  more  —  nor  horse  am  I  nor  dog 
To  gulp  down  water  —  pest,  I  hate  the  stuff !" 

"Ah!"   laughed   the   Duke,  "'tis  plain   hast   had 

enough, 
And  since  well  filled  with  water  thou  dost  lie 
To  answer  thee  thy  questions  fain  am  I. 
First  then  —  thou  art  in  lowly  guise  bedight, 
For  that  thou  art  my  trusty,  most-loved  knight, 
Who  at  my  side  in  many  a  bloody  fray, 
With    thy    good    sword    hath    smit    grim    Death 

away " 

"Lord,"   quoth  the  Knight,  "what's  done  is  past 

return, 
'T  is  of  our  future  doings  I  would  learn." 

"Aye,"  said  the  Duke,  "list,  Pertinax,  and  know 
'T  is  on  a  pilgrimage  of  love  we  go : 
Mayhap  hast  heard  the  beauty  and  the  fame 
Of  fair  Yolande,  that  young  and  peerless  dame 

5 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

For  whom  so  many  noble  lovers  sigh 

And  with  each  other  in  the  lists  do  vie  ? 

Though   much  I  've   dreamed  of   sweet  Yolanda's 

charms 
My  days  have  passed  in  wars  and  feats  of  arms, 
For,  Pertinax,  this  blemished  face  I  bear, 
Should  fright,  methinks,  a  lady  young  and  fair. 
And  so  it  is  that  I  have  deemed  it  wiser 
To    hide    it    when    I    might    'neath    casque    and 

visor " 

Hereat  Sir  Pertinax  smote  hand  to  knee 

And,  frowning,  shook  his  head.     "Messire,"  said  he, 

"Thou  art  a  man,  and  young,  of  noble  race, 

And,  being  duke,  what  matter  for  thy  face  ? 

Rank,  wealth,  estate  —  these  be  the  things  I  trow 

Can  make  the  fairest  woman  tender  grow. 

Ride  unto  her  in  thy  rich  armour  dight, 

With  archer,  man-at-arms,  and  many  a  knight 

To  swell  thy  train  with  pomp  and  majesty, 

That  she,  and  all,  thy  might  and  rank  may  see ; 

So  shall  all  folk  thy  worthiness  acclaim, 

And  her  maid's  heart,  methinks,  shall  do  the  same. 

Thy  blemished  face  shall  matter  not  one  jot ; 

To  mount  thy  throne  she  '11  think  a  happy  lot. 

So  woo  her  thus " 

"So  will  I  woo  her  not !" 
Quoth  Jocelyn,  "For  than  I  'd  win  her  so, 
Alone  and  loveless  all  my  days  I  'd  go. 
Ha,  Pertinax,  'spite  all  thy  noble  parts, 
'Tis  sooth  ye  little  know  of  women's  hearts !" 

"Women?"  quoth  Pertinax,  and  scratched  his  jaw, 
"  'T  is  true  of  dogs  and  horses  I  know  more, 
And  dogs  do  bite,  and  steeds  betimes  will  balk, 
And  fairest  women,  so  they  say,  will  talk." 

6 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"And  so  dost  thou,  my  Pertinax,  and  yet, 
'Spite  all  thy  talk,  my  mind  on  this  is  set  — 
Thus,  in  all  lowliness  I  '11  e'en  go  to  her 
And  'neath  this  foolish  motley  I  will  woo  her. 
And  if,  despite  this  face,  this  humble  guise, 
I  once  may  read  love's  message  in  her  eyes, 
Then  Pertinax  —  by  all  the  Saints,  't  will  be 
The  hope  of  all  poor  lovers  after  me, 
These  foolish  bells  a  deathless  tale  shall  ring, 
And  of  Love's  triumph  evermore  shall  sing. 

"So,  Pertinax,  ne'er  curse  ye  so 
For  that  in  lowly  guise  we  go, 
We  many  a  merry  chance  may  know, 
Sir  Pertinax  of  Shene." 
"And  chances  evil,  lord,  also!" 
Quoth  Pertinax  of  Shene. 

Now  on  a  sudden,  from  the  thorny  brake, 
E'en  as  Sir  Pertinax  thus  doleful  spake, 
Leapt  lusty  loons  and  ragged  rascals  four, 
Rusty  their  mail,  yet  bright  the  swords  they  bore. 

Up  sprang  Sir  Pertinax  with  gleeful  shout, 
Plucked  forth  his  blade  and  fiercely  laid  about. 
"Ha,  rogues!  Ha,  knaves!  Most  scurvy  dogs!"  he 

cried. 
While  point  and  edge  right  lustily  he  plied 
And  smote  to  earth  the  foremost  of  the  crew, 
Then,  laughing,  pell-mell  leapt  on  other  two. 
The  fourth  rogue's   thrust,   Duke  Joc'lyn   blithely 

parried 
Right  featly  with  the  quarter-staff  he  carried. 
Then  'neath  the  fellow's  guard  did  nimbly  slip 
And  caught  him  in  a  cunning  wrestler's  grip. 
Now  did  they  reel  and  stagger  to  and  fro, 
And  on  the  ling  each  other  strove  to  throw ; 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Arm  locked  with  arm  they  heaved,  they  strove  and 

panted, 
With  mighty  shoulders  bowed  and  feet  firm-planted. 
So  on  the  sward,  with  golden  sunlight  dappled, 
In  silence  grim  they  tussled,  fiercely  grappled. 
Thus  then  Duke  Jocelyn  wrestled  joyously, 
For  this  tall  rogue  a  lusty  man  was  he, 
But,  'spite  his  tricks  and  all  his  cunning  play, 
He  in  the  Duke  had  met  his  match  this  day, 
As,  with  a  sudden  heave  and  mighty  swing, 
Duke  Jocelyn  hurled  him  backwards  on  the  ling, 
And  there  he  breathless  lay  and  sore  amazed, 
While  on  the  Duke  with  wonderment  he  gazed  : 
"A  Fool?"  he  cried.     "Nay,  certes  fool,  per  De, 
Ne'er  saw  I  fool,  a  fool  the  like  o'  thee !" 

But  now,  e'en  as  the  Duke  did  breathless  stand, 
Up  strode  Sir  Pertinax,  long  sword  in  hand : 
"Messire,"  he  growled,  "my  rogues  have  run  away, 
So,  since  you  've  felled  this  fellow,  him  I  '11  slay." 


<< 


Not  so,"  the  Duke,  short-breathing,  made  reply, 
Methinks  this  rogue  is  too  much  man  to  die." 


"How?"  cried  the  Knight;   "not  slay  a  knave  —  a 

thief  ? 
Such  clemency  is  strange  and  past  belief ! 

Mean  ye  to  let  the  dog  all  scathless  go  ?  " 

t 

"Nay,"  said  the  Duke,  square  chin  on  fist,  "not  so, 

For  since  the  rogue  is  plainly  in  the  wrong 

The  rogue  shall  win  his  freedom  with  a  song, 

And  since  forsooth  a  rogue  ingrain  is  he, 

So  shall  he  sing  a  song  of  roguery. 

Rise,  roguish  rogue,  get  thee  thy  wind  and  sing, 

Pipe  me  thy  best  lest  on  a  tree  ye  swing !" 

8 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Up  to  his  feet  the  lusty  outlaw  sprang, 
And  thus,  in  clear  melodious  voice,  he  sang : 

"I  '11  sing  a  song  not  over  long, 

A  song  of  roguery. 
For  I  'm  a  rogue,  and  thou  'rt  a  rogue, 

And  so,  in  faith,  is  he. 
And  we  are  rogues,  and  ye  are  rogues, 

All  rogues  in  verity. 

"As  die  we  must  and  turn  to  dust, 
Since  each  is  Adam's  son, 
A  rogue  was  he,  so  rogues  are  we, 
And  rascals  every  one. 

"The  Abbot  sleek  with  visage  meek, 
With  candle,  book  and  bell, 
Our  souls  may  curse,  we  're  none  the  worses 
Since  he  's  a  rogue  as  well. 

"My  lord  aloft  doth  hang  full  oft 
Poor  rogues  the  like  o'  me, 
But  all  men  know  where  e'er  he  go 
A  greater  rogue  is  he. 

"The  king  abroad  with  knight  and  lord 
Doth  ride  in  majesty, 
But  strip  him  bare  and  then  and  there 
A  shivering  rogue  ye  '11  see. 

"Sirs,  if  ye  will  my  life  to  spill, 
Then  hang  me  on  a  tree, 
Since  rogue  am  I,  a  rogue  I  '11  die, 
A  roguish  death  for  me. 

"  But  i'  the  wind  the  leaves  shall  find 
Small  voices  for  my  dole, 

9 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  when  I  'm  dead  sigh  o'er  my  head 
Prayers  for  my  poor  rogue  soul ; 

For  I  'm  a  rogue,  and  thou  'rt  a  rogue, 
And  so  in  faith  is  he, 

As  we  are  rogues,  so  ye  are  rogues, 
All  rogues  in  verity." 

The  singing  done,  the  Duke  sat  lost  in  thought, 
What  time  Sir  Pertinax  did  stamp  and  snort : 
"Ha,  by  the  Mass  !  Now,  by  the  Holy  Rood ! 
Ne'er  heard  I  roguish  rant  so  bold  and  lewd ! 
He  should  be  whipped,  hanged,   quartered,  flayed 
alive " 

"Then,"  quoth   the   Duke,  "pay  him  gold   pieces 

five," 
"How  —  pay    a    rogue?"    the    Knight    did    fierce 

retort. 
" A  ribald's  rant  —  give  good,  gold  pieces  for  't  ? 

A  plague  !  A  pest !  The  knave  should  surely  die " 

But  here  he  met  Duke  Joc'lyn's  fierce  blue  eye, 
And  silent  fell  and  in  his  poke  did  dive, 
And  slowly  counted  thence  gold  pieces  five, 
Though  still  he  muttered  fiercely  'neath  his  breath, 
Such  baleful  words  as  :  "  'S  blood  ! "  and  "  'S  bones  ! " 

and  "'S  death!" 

Then  laughed  the  Duke  and  from  the   greenwood 

strode ; 
But  scarce  was  he  upon  the  dusty  road, 
Than  came  the  rogue  who,  louting  to  his  knee : 
"O  Fool !   Sir  Fool !   Most  noble  Fool !"  said  he. 
"Either  no  fool,  or  fool  forsooth  thou  art, 
That  dareth  thus  to  take  an  outlaw's  part. 
Yet,  since  this  day  my  rogue's  life  ye  did  spare, 
So  now  by  oak,  by  ash,  by  thorn  I  swear  — 

10 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  mark,  Sir  Fool,  and  to  my  saying  heed  — 
Shouldst  e'er  lack  friends  to  aid  thee  in  thy  need 
Come  by  this  stream  where  stands  a  mighty  oak, 
Its  massy  bole  deep-cleft  by  lightning  stroke, 
Hid  in  this  cleft  a  hunting-horn  ye  '11  see, 
Take  then  this  horn  and  sound  thereon  notes  three. 
So  shall  ye  find  the  greenwood  shall  repay 
The  roguish  life  ye  spared  a  rogue  this  day." 

So  spake  he ;  then,  uprising  from  his  knees, 
Strode  blithe  away  and  vanished  'mid  the  trees. 
Whereat  Sir  Pertinax  shook  doleful  head : 
"There  go  our  good  gold  pieces,  lord !"  he  said. 
"Would  that  yon  rogue  swung  high  upon  a  tree, 
And  in  my  poke  our  gold  again  might  be. 
Full  much  I  marvel,  lord,  and  fain  would  know 
Wherefore  and  why  unhanged  didst  let  him  go?" 

Then  answered  the  Duke  singing  on  this  wise : 

"Good  Pertinax,  if  on  a  tree 
Yon  rogue  were  swinging  high 
A  deader  rogue  no  man  could  see  — 
'He  's  but  a  rogue  !'  says  you  to  me, 
*  But  a  living  rogue  ! '  says  I. 

"And  since  he  now  alive  doth  go 
More  honest  he  may  die, 
Yon  rogue  an  honest  man  may  grow, 
If  we  but  give  him  time,  I  trow, 
Says  I  to  you,  says  I." 

At  this,  Sir  Pertinax  growled  in  his  beard 

My  daughter  Gillian  interrupteth  : 

Gill  :    A  beard  ?    O  father  —  beard  will  never  do ! 
No  proper  knight  a  beard  ever  grew.  ] 

II 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

No  knight  could  really  romantic  be 

Who  wore  a  beard  !     So,  father,  to  please  me, 

No  beard ;    they  are,  I  think,  such  scrubby 

things 

Myself  :  Yet  they  are  worn,  sometimes,  by  poets  and 
kings. 

Gill  :        But  your  knight 

Myself  :  Oh,  all  right, 

My  Gill,  from  your  disparagement  to  save 

him, 
I,  like  a  barber,  will  proceed  to  shave  him. 

Sir  Pertinax,  then,  stroked  his  smooth-shaved  chin, 
And  thus  to  curse  he  softly  did  begin, 
"  Par  Dex,  my  lord " 

My  daughter  gillian  interposeth : 

Gill:        Your  knight,  dear  father,  seems  to  love  to 

curse. 
Myself:  He    does.     A    difficult    matter,     child,     in 

verse  

Gill  :        Of  verse  I  feel  a  little  tired 


Myself  :  Why,  if  you  think  a  change  desired, 

A  change  we  '11  have,  for,  truth  to  tell, 
This  rhyming  bothers  me  as  well. 
So  here  awhile  we  '11  sink  to  prose. 
Now,  are  you  ready  ?    Then  here  goes ! 

"Par  Dex,  my  lord!"  growled  Sir  Pertinax.  "A 
malison  on  't,  says  I,  saving  thy  lordly  grace,  yet  a 
rogue  is  a  rogue  and,  being  rogue,  should  die  right 
roguishly  as  is  the  custom  and  the  law.  For  if, 
messire,  if  —  per  De  and  by  Our  Sweet  Lady  of 
Shene  Chapel  within  the  Wood,  if,  I  say,  in  thy  new 
and  sudden-put-on  attitude  o'  folly,  thou  wilt  save 
alive  all  rogues  soever,  then  by  Saint  Cuthbert  his 
curse,  by  sweet  Saint  Benedict  his  blessed  bones, 

by " 

12 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Hold  now,  Pertinax,"  said  the  Duke,  slipping  his 
lute  into  leathern  bag  and  slinging  it  behind  wide 
shoulders,  "list  ye,  Sir  Knight  of  Shene,  and  mark 
this,  to  wit :  If  a  rogue  in  roguery  die  then  rogue  is 
he  forsooth;  but,  mark  this  again,  if  a  rogue  be 
spared  his  life  he  may  perchance  and  peradventure 
forswear,  that  is,  eschew  or,  vulgarly  speaking, 
turn  from  his  roguish  ways,  and  die  as  honest  as  I, 
aye,  or  even  —  thou  !" 

Here  Sir  Pertinax  snorted  as  they  strode  on  to- 
gether, yet  in  a  little  they  turned  aside  from  the  hot 
and  dusty  road  and  journeyed  on  beneath  the  trees 
that  grew  thereby. 

"By  all  the  fiends,  my  lord,  and  speaking  vulgarly 
in  turn,  this  belly  o'  mine  lacketh,  these  my  bowels 
do  yearn  consumedly  unto  messes  savoury  and  cates 
succulent " 

Whereat  the  Duke,  smiling  merry-eyed,  chanted 
roguishly : 

"A  haunch  o'  venison  juicy  from  the  spit  now?" 
"Aha!"     groaned     the     Knight,    "Lord,     let     us 
haste " 

"A  larded  capon  to  thee  might  seem  fit  now?" 
"Saints!"   sighed  the  Knight,   "but  for  one  little 
taste." 

"Or,  Pertinax,  a  pasty  plump  and  deep " 

"Ha  —  pasty,  by  the  Mass  !"  the  Knight  did  cry. 

"Or    pickled    tongue    of    neat,    Sir    Knight,    or 

sheep " 

"Oh,  for  a  horse  !  For  wings  wherewith  to  fly " 

"Or  breast  of  swan " 

"Stay!  nay,  my  lord,  ha'  mercy!"  groaned  Sir 
Pertinax,  wiping  moist  brow.  'Picture  no  more 
toothsome  dainties  to  my  soul  lest  for  desire  I 
swoon  and  languish  by  the  way.  I  pray  thee,  let  us 
haste,  sire,  so  may  we  reach  fair  Canalise  ere  sunset 

13 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

—  yet    stay !     Hearken,    messire,    hear    ye    aught  ? 
Sure,  afar  the  tocsin  soundeth?" 

Now  hearkening  thus,  they  both  became  aware 

Of  distant  bells  that  throbbed  upon  the  air, 

A  faint,  insistent  sound  that  rose  and  fell, 

A  clamour  vague  that  ominous  did  swell. 

As  thus  they  stood,  well  hidden  from  the  road, 

Footsteps  they  heard  of  feet  that  briskly  strode. 

And,  through  the  leaves,  a  small  man  they  espied, 

Who  came  apace,  a  great  sword  by  his  side. 

Large  bascinet  upon  his  head  he  bore, 

'Neath  which  his  face  a  scowl  portentous  wore ; 

While  after  toiled  a  stout  but  reverend  friar 

Who,  scant  of  breath,  profusely  did  perspire 

And,  thus  perspiring,  panted  sad  complaints 

Thus  —  on  the  heat,  his  comrade  and  the  Saints. 

"O  Bax,  O  Bax  !   Saint  Cuthbert  aid  me  now ! 
O  Bax,  see  how  to  sweat  thou  'st  made  me  now ! 
Thy  speed  abate  !     O  sweet  Saint  Dominic ! 
Why  pliest  thou  thy  puny  shanks  so  quick ; 
O  day  !     O  Bax  !     O  hot,  sulphurous  day, 
My  flesh  betwixt  ye  melteth  fast  away. 
Come,  sit  ye,  Bax,  in  shade  of  yon  sweet  tree, 
And,  sitting  soft,  I'll  sagely  counsel  thee." 

"Not  so,  in  faith,"  the  small  man,  scowling,  said, 
"What  use  for  counsel  since  the  cause  be  fled? 
And  since  she  's  fled — Saints  succour  us  !"  he  cried; 
As  'mid  the  leaves  all  suddenly  he  spied 
Sir  Pertinax  in  his  unlovely  trim, 
His  rusty  mail,  his  aspect  swart  and  grim  — 
"Ha  !"  gasped  the  little  man,  "we  are  beset !! 
And  starting  back,  off  fell  his  bascinet. 
Whereat  he  fiercely  did  but  scowl  the  more, 


i» 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  strove  amain  his  ponderous  sword  to  draw. 
"Hence,  dog!"  he  cried,  "lest,  with  my  swashing 

blow, 
I  make  thee  food  for  carrion  kite  and  crow." 
But  in  swift  hands  Sir  Pertinax  fast  caught  him 
And,  bearing  him  on  high,  to  Joc'lyn  brought  him, 
Who,  while  the  captive  small  strove  vain  aloft 
Reproved  him  thus  in  accents  sweet  and  soft : 

"Right  puissant  and  potential  sir,  we  do  beseech 
thee  check  thy  ferocity,  quell  now  thy  so  great 
anger  and  swear  not  to  give  our  flesh  for  fowls  to 
tear,  so  shalt  thou  come  down  to  earth  and  stand 
again  upon  thine  own  two  legs.  And  thou,  most 
reverend  friar,  invoke  now  thy  bloody-minded 
comrade  that  he  swear  to  harm  us  not!" 

The  stout  friar  seated  himself  hard  by  beneath  a 
tree,  mopped  moist  brow,  fetched  his  wind  and 
smiled. 

"Sir  Fool,"  said  he,  "I  am  thy  security  that  thou 
and  thy  brawny  gossip  need  quake  and  tremble 
nothing  by  reason  of  this  Bax,  our  valiant  reeve  — 
he  shall  harm  ye  no  whit."  Here,  meeting  Jocelyn's 
eye,  Sir  Pertinax  set  down  the  small  Reeve,  who 
having  taken  up  and  put  on  his  great  bascinet, 
scowled,  whereupon  Duke  Jocelyn  questioned  him 
full  meek : 

"Good  master  Reeve,  of  your  courtesy  pray  you 
tell  us  why  yon  bells  do  ring  so  wild  alarm." 

The  small  Reeve  viewed  him  with  disdainful  eye ; 
Sniffed  haughty  nose  and  proudly  made  reply : 
"Our  bells  we  ring  and  clamour  make,  because 
We  've  lost  our  lady  fair  of  Tissingors. 
Our  Duchess  Benedicta  hath  this  day 

15 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

From  all  her  worthy  guardians  stole  away. 

Thus  we  for  her  do  inquisition  make, 

Nor,  'till  she  's  found,  may  hope  our  rest  to  take, 

And  thus  we  cause  such  outcry  as  we  may, 

Since  we  lose  not  our  Duchess  ev'ry  day. 

So  then  we  'd  have  ye  speak  us  —  aye  or  no, 

Saw  ye  our  errant  lady  this  way  go  ? 

And,  that  ye  may  her  know  for  whom  we  seek, 

Her  just  description  fully  I  will  speak : 

Her  hair  night-black,  her  eyes  the  self-same  hue, 

Her  habit  brown,  unless  't  were  red  or  blue, 

And  if  not  blue  why  then  mayhap  't  is  green,| 

Since  she  by  turns  of  all  such  hues  is  seen " 

"Stay,  sir,"  quoth  Jocelyn,  "'tis  plain  to  see 

No  maid  but  a  chameleon  is  she, 

For  here  we  have  her  brown  and  green  and  blue, 

And  if  not  brown  then  rosy  is  her  hue, 

And,  if  not  red,  why  then  't  is  very  plain 

That  brown  she  is  or  blue  or  green  again. 

Now  fain,  sir,  would  I  ask  and  question  whether 

She  e'er  is  seen  these  colours  all  together  ? 

"  O  fain  would  I  a  lady  spy, 
By  countryside  or  town, 
Who  may  be  seen  all  blue  and  green, 
Unless  she  's  red  or  brown." 

But  now,  while  fierce  the  little  man  did  scowl, 

The  rosy  Friar,  sly-smiling  'neath  his  cowl, 

His  visage  meek,  spake  thus  in  dulcet  tone : 

"Sir  Fool,  our  Reeve  is  something  mixed,  I  '11  own, 

Though  he  by  divers  colours  is  bemused, 

Learn  ye  this  truth,  so  shall  he  stand  excused : 

Our  Duchess  Benedicta,  be  it  known, 

Hath  this  day  from  her  several  guardians  flown. 

16 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Ten  worthy  men  her  several  guardians  be, 

Of  whom  the  chief  and  worthiest  ye  see, 

As  first  —  myself,  a  friar  of  some  report, 

Well-known,  methinks,  in  country,  town  and  court. 

Who  as  all  men  can  unto  all  men  speak, 

Well  read  beside  in  Latin  and  in  Greek, 

A  humble  soul  albeit  goodly  preacher, 

One  apt  to  learn  and  therefore  learned  teacher, 

One  who  can  laugh  betimes,  betimes  can  pray, 

Who  '11  colic  cure  or  on  the  bagpipe  play. 

Who '11  sing " 

"Stay!"  cried  the  Reeve.     "Friar,  what 

o' me?" 
"Patience,  O  Bax,  too  soon  I  '11  come  to  thee ! 

Who  '11  sing  ye  then  blithe  as  a  bird  on  bough " 

"Friar!"  growled  the  Reeve,  "the  time  for  me   is 

now !" 
"So  be  it,  then,"  the  Friar  did  gently  say, 
"I  '11  speak  of  thee  as  truly  as  I  may : 
Here  then  behold  our  port-reeve,  Greg'ry  Bax, 
Who,  save  for  reason,  naught  in  reason  lacks, 
Who,  though  he  small  and  puny  seems  to  shew, 
In  speech  he  is  Goliath-like,  I  trow, 
Chief  Councillor  of  Tissingors  is  he, 
And  of  the  council  second  but  —  to  me. 
For  with  the  townsfolk  first  of  all  come  I " 

Reeve  :  Since  thy  fat  finger  is  in  every  pie 

"Saving  your  reverend  grace,"  Duke  Joc'lyn  said, 
'What  of  this  maid  that  turneth  green  and  red?" 

Reeve  :    Fool,  then  learn   this,  ere   that  our  lord 

duke  died, 
Ten  guardians  for  his  child  he  did  provide, 
The  Friar  and  I,  with  men  of  lesser  fame, 
Co-guardians  are  of  this  right  puissant  dame. 

17 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Jocelyn  :  Beseech  ye,  sir,  now  tell  us  an'  ye  may, 
Why  hath  thy  youthful  Duchess  run  away  ? 

"Fair  Fool,"  quoth  the  Friar,  fanning  himself 
with  a  frond  of  bracken,  "'tis  a  hot  day,  a  day 
reminiscent  of  the  ultimate  fate  of  graceless  sinners, 
and  I  am  like  the  day  and  languish  for  breath,  yet, 
to  thy  so  pertinent  question  I  will,  straightly  and  in 
few  words,  pronounce  and  answer  thee,  as  followeth  : 
Our  Lady  Benedicta  hath  run  away  firstly,  brethren, 
for  that  being  formed  woman  after  Nature's  goodly 
plan  she  hath  the  wherewithal  to  walk,  to  leap,  to 
skip  or  eke  to  run,  as  viz. :  item  and  to  wit  —  legs. 
Secondly,  inquisitorial  brethren,  she  ran  for  an 
excellent  good  reason  —  as  observe  —  there  was 
none  to  let  or  stay  her.  And  thirdly,  gentle  and 
eager  hearers,  she  did  flit  or  fly,  leave,  vacate,  or 
depart  our  goodly  town  of  Tissingors  for  that  she 
had  —  mark  me  —  no  mind  to  stay,  remain  or  abide 
therein.  And  this  for  the  following  express,  rare 
and  most  curious  reason  as  —  mark  now  —  in  a 
word " 

"Hold  —  hold,  Friar  John!"  exclaimed  the 
Reeve;  "here  sit  ye  here  a-sermonising,  venting 
words  a-many  what  time  our  van  shed  Duchess 
fleeth.  Knew  I  not  the  contrary  I  should  say  thou 
didst  countenance  her  flight  and  spent  thyself  in 
wordy- wind  wherewith  to  aid  her!" 

Now  here,  chancing  to  meet  Duke  Jocelyn's 
shrewd  gaze,  Friar  John  slowly  and  ponderously 
winked  one  round,  bright  eye. 

Quoth  he : 

"Hark  to  our  valiant  port-reeve  Greg'ry  Bax 
Who,  save  for  reason,  nought  of  reason  lacks!" 

18 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Howbeit,"  fumed  the  Reeve,  stamping  in  the 
dust,  "here  sit  ye  at  thy  full-bodied  ease,  fanning 
flies  and  animadverting " 

"Animadverting!"  nodded  Friar  John.  "A  good 
word,  Reeve,  a  fair,  sweet  word ;  in  verity  a  word 
full-bodied  as  I,  wherefore  it  liketh  me  well.  So 
sit  I  here  animadverting  whiles  thou  kicketh  up  a 
dust  in  fashion  foolish  and  un-reeve-like." 

"A  plague  o'  words!"  cried  the  Reeve.  "A 
pest  o'  wind !  Enough  —  enough,  contain  thy 
prolixities  and  rodomontade  and  let  me  to  the  point 
explain " 

"Aha!"  quoth  the  Friar.  "Good  sooth,  here  's  a 
noble  word !  A  word  round  i'  the  mouth,  rolling 
upon  the  tongue.  Ha,  Reeve,  I  give  thee  joy  of 
rodomontade !" 

"Thus  then,"  continued  the  Reeve,  "I  will,  with 
use  of  no  verbiage  circumlocutory,  explain." 

"Ho-oho!"  cried  Friar  John,  rubbing  plump 
hands  ecstatic.  "Good  Bax,  ne'er  have  I  heard 
thee  to  so  great  advantage  —  verbiage  circum- 
locutory —  and  thou  —  thou  such  small  man  to 
boot!     O  most  excellent,  puny  Reeve!" 

Here  the  little  man  turned  his  back  upon  the 
Friar  and  continued  hastily  thus : 

"A  lord  there  is,  a  lord  of  lofty  pride, 
Who  for  our  lady  oft  hath  sued  and  sighed " 


Friar  John  :  Whom    she    as    oft    hath    scornfully 
denied ! 

The  Reeve:  A  mighty   lord  who  seeketh   her   to 
wife 

Friar  John  :  Though  he,  't  is  said,  doth  lead  most 
evil  life ! 

19 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

The  Reeve  :  To  which  fair  lord  our  wilful  maid 
we  'd  wed 

Friar  John  :  Since  this  fair  lord  the  council  holds 
in  dread ! 

The  Reeve  :  But  she,  defying  us,  this  very  day 
Like  wicked  thief  hath  stole  herself  away. 
Thus  this  poor  lord  such  deeps  of  gloom  is  in 
Vows  he  '11  not  wash,  nor  shave  again  his  chin 
Till  found  is  she  :   He  groaneth,  sheddeth  tears 


The  Friar  :  And  swears  her  guardians  ten  shall  lose 
their  ears ! 

The  Reeve  :  Wherefore  are  we  in  mighty  pertur- 
bation, 
Amazed,  distraught  and  filled  with  consternation. 
Thus  do  our  bells  ring  out  their  wild  alarms, 
Our  civic  bands  do  muster  under  arms ; 
Drums  shall  be  drummed  the  countryside  around, 
Until  our  truant  Duchess  we  have  found, 
And  we  have  wed  this  most  elusive  dame 
Unto  Sir  Agramore  of  Biename. 

The  Friar  :  And  yield  her  thus  to  woes  and  bitter 
shame ! 

The  Reeve  :  So  speak  me,  fellows ;  as  ye  came  this 

way 
Saw  ye  aught  of  this  wilful,  errant  may  ? 

Answered  Jocelyn:  "Neither  to-day  nor  any  other 
day." 

"Why  then,"  fumed  the  Reeve,  "here  have  we 
been  at  great  expense  o'  breath  and  time  and  all  to 
no  purpose.  Come,  Friar,  beseech  thee,  let  us 
haste  to  begone." 

20 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

So  Friar  John  got  slowly  to  his  feet 
Complaining  loud  of  hurry  and  of  heat, 
But  paused  behind  the  hasteful  Reeve  to  linger, 
And  to  plump  nose  he  slyly  laid  plump  finger. 

Now  stood  Sir  Pertinax  thoughtful,  chin  on  fist, 
insomuch  that  Jocelyn,  thrumming  his  lute,  ques- 
tioned him : 

"Good  Pertinax,  how  now 
What  pond'rest  thou 
With  furrowed  brow  ? 
Thy  care,  Sir  Knight,  avow  ! " 

Saith  Pertinax:  "I  meditate  the  way  wondrous 
of  woman,  the  frowardness  of  creatures  feminine. 
For  mark  me,  sir,  here  is  one  hath  guardians  ten, 
yet  despite  them  she  is  fled  away  and  they  ten !" 

"Why  truly,  Pertinax,  they  are  ten,  so  is  she 
fled." 

"Aye,  but  if  they  be  ten  that  ward  her  and  she 
one  that  would  flee,  how  shall  this  one  flee  these 
ten?" 

"For  that  they  be  ten." 

"Nay,  lord,  here  be  twenty  eyes  to  watch  one 
young  maid  and  twenty  legs  to  pursue  the  same,  yet 
doth  she  evade  them  one  and  all,  and  here  's  the 
wonder  on  't  —  she  's  but  one  maid." 

"Nay,  there  's  the  reason  on  't,  Pertinax  —  she  is 
a  maid." 

'The  which  is  great  matter  for  wonder,  lord !" 

"Spoke  like  a  very  Pertinax,  my  Pertinax,  for 
here  's  no  wonder  at  all.  For  perceive,  the  lady  is 
young,  her  wardens  ten  grave  seniors,  worthy  wights 
—  solemn,  sober  and  sedate,  Pertinax,  wise  and 
wearisome,  grave  yet  garrulous,  and  therefore  they 
suffice  not." 

21 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Aye,  prithee  and  wherefore  not?" 

"For  their  divers  worthy  attributes  and  because 
they  be  —  ten.  Now  had  these  ten  been  one  and 
this  one  a  very  man  —  the  man  —  here  had  been 
no  running  away  on  part  of  the  lady,  I  '11  warrant 
me?" 

"Stay,  my  lord,"  said  Pertinax,  in  deep  perplexity, 
"how  judge  ye  so  —  and  wherefore  —  why  and  by 
what  manner  o'  reasoning?" 

"Ha,  Pertinax!"  laughed  the  Duke,  "my  lovely, 
loveless  numskull !"  So  saying,  he  kicked  the  good 
Knight  full  joyously  and  so  they  trudged  on  again. 

Till  presently,  beyond  the  green  of  trees, 

They  saw  afar  the  town  of  Canalise, 

A  city  fair,  couched  on  a  gentle  height, 

With  walls  embattled  and  strong  towers  bedight. 

Now  seeing  that  the  sun  was  getting  low, 

Our  travellers  at  quicker  pace  did  go. 

Thus  as  in  haste  near  to  the  gate  they  came, 

Before  them  limped  a  bent  and  hag-like  dame, 

With   long,   sharp  nose   that  downward  curved  as 

though 
It  beak-like  wished  to  peck  sharp  chin  below. 
Humbly  she  crept  in  cloak  all  torn  and  rent, 
And  o'er  a  staff  her  tottering  limbs  were  bent. 
So  came  she  to  the  gate,  then  cried  in  fear, 
And  started  back  from  sudden-levelled  spear ; 
For  'neath  the  gate  lounged  lusty  fellows  three 
Who  seldom  spake  yet  spat  right  frequently. 

"Kind  sirs,  good  sirs,"  the  ancient  dame  did  cry, 

"In  mercy's  name  I  pray  ye  let  me  by " 

But,  as  she  spoke,  a  black-jowled  fellow  laughed, 
And,    spitting,    tripped   her   with   out- thrust   pike- 
shaft, 

22 


EI)fy  savn  afar  trjc  toton  of  Canalise 


^JQf 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

That  down  she  fell  and  wailed  most  piteously, 
Whereat  the  brawny  fellows  laughed  all  three. 
"Ha,  witch !"  they  cried,  as  thus  she  helpless  lay, 
"Shalt  know  the  fire  and  roasted  be  one  day  !" 
Now  as  the  aged  creature  wailed  and  wept, 
Forth  to  her  side  Duke  Joc'lyn  lightly  stepped, 
With  quarter-staff  a-twirl  he  blithely  came. 
Quoth  he:    "Messires,  harm  not  this  ancient  dame, 
Bethink  ye  how  e'en  old  and  weak  as  she, 
Your  wives  and  mothers  all  must  one  day  be. 
So  here  then  lies  your  mother,  and  't  were  meeter 
As  ye  are  sons  that  as  sons  ye  entreat  her. 
Come,  let  her  by  and,  fool-like  to  requite  ye, 
With  merry  jape  and  quip  I  will  delight  ye, 
Or  with  sweet  song  I  '11  charm  those  ass's  ears, 
And  melt,  belike,  those  bullish  hearts  to  tears " 

Now  the  chief  warder,  big  and  black  of  jowl, 

Upon  the  Duke  most  scurvily  did  scowl. 

"How  now,"  quoth  he,  "we  want  no  fool's-heads 

here " 

"Sooth,"   laughed   the  Duke,   "you  're  fools  enow 

't  is  clear, 
Yet  there  be  fools  and  fools,  ye  must  allow, 
Gay  fools  as  I  and  surly  fools  —  as  thou." 

"Ha,  look  'ee,  Fool,  Black  Lewin  e'en  am  I, 
And,  by  my  head,  an  ill  man  to  defy. 
Now,  motley  rogue,  wilt  call  me  fool  ?"  he  roared, 
And  roaring  fierce,  clapped  hairy  fist  on  sword. 

"Aye,  that  will  I,"  Duke  Joc'lyn  soft  replied, 
"And  black-avised,  swart,  knavish  rogue  beside." 

But  now,  while  thus  our  ducal  jester  spoke, 

Black  Lewin  sprang  and  fetched  him  such  a  stroke 

23 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

That  Jocelyn  saw  flash  before  his  eyes, 

More  stars  that  e'er  he  'd  noticed  in  the  skies. 

Whereat  Sir  Pertinax  did  gaping  stare, 

Then  ground  his  teeth  and  mighty  oaths  did  swear, 

And  in  an  instant  bared  his  trusty  blade, 

But  then  the  Duke  his  fiery  onslaught  stayed. 

"Ha !"  cried  the  Knight,  "and  wilt  thou  smitten  be 
By  such  base  knave,  such  filthy  rogue  as  he?" 

"Nay,"  smiled  the  Duke,  "stand  back  and  watch, 

good  brother, 
A  Rogue  and  Fool  at  buffets  with  each  other." 

And  speaking  thus,  he  leapt  on  Black  Lewin, 

And  smote  him  twice  full  hard  upon  the  chin, 

Two  goodly  blows  upon  that  big,  black  jowl, 

Whereat  Black  Lewin  lustily  did  howl 

And  falling  back,  his  polished  bascinet 

With  ringing  clash  the  cold,  hard  flagstones  met. 

Whereat  his  fellows,  shouting  fierce  alarms, 

Incontinent  betook  them  to  their  arms ; 

And  thus  it  seemed  a  fight  there  must  have  been 

But  that  a  horseman  sudden  spurred  between  — 

A  blue-eyed  youth  with  yellow,  curling  hair, 

Of  slender  shape,  of  face  and  feature  fair, 

A  dainty  knight  was  he  in  very  truth, 

A  blue-eyed,  merry,  laughter-loving  youth. 

"Ha,  knaves,  what  do  ye  with  the  Fool?"  lisped  he, 
"Wilt  strike  a  motley,  dogs  —  a  Fool?     Let  be! 
Though  faith,  't  would  seem,  Sir  Fool,  thou  hast  a 

fist 
That  surly  Lewin  to  his  dole  hath  kissed. 
If  it  can  strum  thy  lute  but  half  as  well, 
Then  gestours  all  methinks  thou  should'st  excel  — 

24 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Ye  rogues,  pass  Folly  in,  no  man  shall  say 
That  from  our  town  we  folly  turned  away. 
Come,  follow,  Fool,  into  the  market-square, 
And  give  us  earnest  of  thy  foolish  ware." 

Now  it  was  market  day,  and  within  the  goodly 
square  were  people  come  from  near  and  far,  a  nota- 
ble concourse,  country  folk  and  folk  of  the  town, 
farmers  and  merchants,  rustic  maids,  fair  ladies, 
knights  and  esquires  on  horseback  or  a-foot,  but  who, 
hearing  the  jingle  of  the  Duke's  tinkling  bells,  seeing 
his  flaunting  cock's-comb,  with  one  accord  gathered 
to  him  from  every  quarter : 

For  when  this  long-legged  gestour  they  espied, 
They,  laughing,  hemmed  him  in  on  every  side, 
And,  "See,  a  Fool !  A  Fool !  The  Fool  must  sing," 
And  "Fool !  A  Fool !"  upon  the  air  did  ring, 
Wherefore  the  Duke  betook  him  to  his  lute, 
And  strummed  until  the  chattering  crowd  was  mute. 
Then  while  all  folk  did  hold  their  peace  to  hear, 
In  golden  voice  he  sang,  full  rich  and  clear : 

"'A  fool!  A  fool! 'ye  cry, 
A  fool  forsooth  am  I. 
But  tell  me,  wise  ones,  if  ye  can, 
Where  shall  ye  find  a  happy  man  ? 
Lived  there  one  since  the  world  began  ? 
Come,  answer  ye 
To  me ! 

" '  What  of  the  king  ? '  says  you. 
Says  I  to  you  —  '  Go  to  ! 
A  king  despite  his  crown  and  throne, 
Hath  divers  troubles  all  his  own. 
Such  woes,  methinks,  as  are  unknown 

25 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

To  such  as  ye, 
Or  me!' 

'"Ha,  then  —  the  rich  ! '   ye  cry, 
'Not  so  in  truth,'  says  I. 
'The  rich  man's  gold  is  load  of  care, 
That  day  and  night  he  needs  must  bear ; 
Less  care  he  'd  know  if  poor  he  were, 
As  poor  as  ye, 
Or  me!' 

"For,  sirs,  as  I  do  guess 
This  thing  called  'Happiness' 
Man  leaveth  with  his  youth  behind ; 
So  keep  ye  all  a  youthful  mind, 
Thus  happiness  ye  all  shall  find 
If  wit  have  ye, 
Like  me ! 

"O  list  ye,  great  and  small, 
Proud  knight,  free  man  and  thrall, 
True  happiness,  since  life  began, 
The  birthright  is  of  every  man ; 
Seize  then  your  birthright  if  ye  can, 
Since  men  are  ye  — 
Like  me ! 

"Thus  I  forsooth,  a  Fool, 
Do  now  ye  wise  ones  school ; 
Since  of  my  folly,  full  and  free, 
I  wisely  thus  admonish  ye, 
Be  wise  —  or  eke  fools  learn  to  be 
In  verity  — 
Like  me !" 

Now  when  the  song  was  ended  some  there  were 
who  laughed  and  some  looked  grave,  some  talked 

26 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

amain  and  some  wagged  solemn  heads,  while  many 
a  good  coin  rang  heartily  at  Duke  Jocelyn's  feet; 
smiling,  he  bade  Sir  Pertinax  take  them  up,  joying  to 
see  the  proud  Knight  stooping  thus  to  pouch  the 
money  like  any  beggar.  But  now,  when  he  would 
fain  have  gone  his  way  into  the  town,  the  people 
would  by  no  means  suffer  it  and  clamoured  amain  on 
all  sides,  insistent  for  more ;  wherefore,  lifting  his 
scarred  face  to  the  sunset  sky,  Duke  Jocelyn  sang 
as  here  followeth : 

"When  man  is  born  he  doth  begin 
With  right  good  will,  to  daily  sin, 
And  little  careth. 

But  when  his  grave  he  thinketh  near, 
Then  grave  he  groweth  in  his  fear 
And  sin  forsweareth. 

"This  life  that  man  doth  cherish  so, 
Is  wondrous  frail  and  quick  to  go, 
Nor  will  it  stay. 

Yet  where  's  the  man  that  will  not  give 
All  that  he  hath  so  he  might  live 
Another  day. 

"Fain  would  I  know  the  reason  why 
All  men  so  fearful  are  to  die 
And  upward  go  ? 

Since  Death  all  woes  and  ills  doth  end, 
Sure  Death,  methinks,  should  be  a  friend, 
Not  hated  foe. 

"So  when  Death  come,  as  come  he  must, 
Grieve  not  that  we  this  sorry  dust 
Do  leave  behind. 
For  when  this  fleeting  life  be  run, 

27 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

By  Death  we  all  of  us  —  each  one, 
True  life  shall  find." 

Now  while  he  sang  melodious  and  clear 

Amid  the  throng  that  closer  pressed  to  hear, 

Duke  Joc'lyn  of  a  sudden  did  espy 

The  "wherefore"  of  his  coming  and  the  "why." 

Yolande  herself  he,  singing,  did  behold, 

Her  eyes,  red  lips,  her  hair  of  ruddy  gold ; 

And  all  her  warm  and  glowing  loveliness 

Did  sudden  thus  his  raptured  vision  bless ; 

While  she,  in  gracious  ease,  her  horse  did  sit 

That  pawed  round  hoof  and  champed  upon  his  bit, 

Arching  proud  neck  as  if  indeed  he  were 

Proud  of  the  lovely  burden  he  did  bear. 

As  Joc'lyn  gazed  upon  her  thus,  she  seemed 

A  thousand  times  more  fair  than  he  had  dreamed. 

Now  while  he  sang,  she  viewed  him,  gentle-eyed, 

And  quite  forgot  the  gallant  by  her  side, 

A  tall,  dark-featured,  comely  lord  was  he, 

With  chin  full  square  and  eyes  of  mastery, 

Who,  when  the  Duke  made  of  his  song  an  end 

Did  from  his  saddle  o'er  Yolanda  bend. 

With  eyes  on  her  warm  beauty  he  stooped  near 

To  touch  white  hand  and  whisper  in  her  ear ; 

Whereat    she    laughed    and    frowned    with    cheek 

flushed  red 
Then,  frowning  still,  she  turned  her  horse's  head, 
And  rode  away  with  dame  and  squire  and  knight, 
Till  lost  she  was  to  Joc'lyn's  ravished  sight. 

"Ha,  lord!"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  as  they  came 
within  a  quiet  thoroughfare,  "this  lady  is  grown  more 
fair  since  last  we  saw  her  Queen  of  Beauty  at  Melloc 
joust,  concerning  whom  Fame,  in  troth,  doth  breed 
a  just  report  for  once.     But,  messire,  didst  mark  him 

28 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

beside  her  —  with  touch  o'  hand,  lord,  whispers  i' 
the  ear  —  didst  mark  this  wolf,  this  Seneschal,  this 
thrice  accurst  Sir  Gui?" 

"Aye,  forsooth,"  answered  the  Duke,  "but 
thou 'rt  an  hungered,  methinks?" 

'To  touch  her  hand,  lord  —  aha!  To  whisper 
in  her  ear,  lord  —  oho !  A  right  puissant  lord, 
Seneschal  of  Raddemore,  Lord  of  Thorn  and  Knight 
of  Ells  !     A  lord  of  puissance  and  power  potential." 

"And  thou,  my  Pertinax,  art  but  a  hungry  Knight, 
that  trampeth  with  a  hungry  Fool,  wherefore  let  us 
forthwith " 

"Aye,  but  mark  me,  lord,  if  this  puissant  lord 
with  pomp  and  high  estate  doth  woo  the  lady " 

"So  then,  my  Pertinax,  will  I  woo  this  lady  also." 

"How,  in  this  thy  foolish  guise?" 

"Aye,  forsooth." 

"Why,  then,  thou  art  like  to  be  whipped  for 
froward  Fool  and  I  for  ragged  rogue,  and  this  our 
adventure  brought  to  ill  and  woeful  end  —  so  here 
now  is  folly,  lord,  indeed!" 

"Aye,  forsooth!"  smiled  the  Duke, 

"Whereto  these  bells  give  heed. 
But  come,  amend  thy  speed, 
Methinks  thy  fasting-need 
These  gloomy  vapours  breed. 
Thy  inner  man  doth  plead 
Good  beef  with  ale  or  mead 
Wherein,  thou  Fool  decreed, 
I  am  right  well  agreed 
'T  were  goodly  thing  to  feed, 
Nor  will  I  thee  impede, 
So  follow  Folly's  lead 
And  food-wards  we  '11  proceed." 


29 


FYTTE  2 

How  Pertinax  mine  host's  large  ears  did  wring, 
And  Jocelyn  of  these  same  ears  did  sing. 


Now  the  town  was  full,  and  every  inn  a-throng 
with  company  —  lords,  both  great  and  small, 
knights  and  esquires  and  their  several  followings, 
as  archers,  men-at-arms,  and  the  like,  all  thither 
come  from  far  and  near  to  joust  at  the  great  tourna- 
ment soon  to  be,  to  honour  the  birthday  of  Bene- 
dicta,  Duchess  of  Tissingors,  Ambremont,  and 
divers  other  fair  cities,  towns  and  villages.  Thus 
our  travellers  sought  lodgment  in  vain,  whereat 
Sir  Pertinax  cursed  beneath  his  breath,  and  Duke 
Jocelyn  hummed,  as  was  each  his  wont  and  custom ; 
and  ever  the  grim  Knight's  anger  grew. 

Until,  at  last,  an  humble  inn  they  saw  — 

A  sorry  place,  with  bush  above  the  door. 

This  evil  place  they  straightway  entered  in, 

Where  riot  reigned,  the  wild,  unlovely  din 

Of  archers,  men-at-arms,  and  rogues  yet  worse, 

Who  drank  and  sang,   whiles   some  did  fight  and- 

curse. 
An  evil  place  indeed,  a  lawless  crew, 
And  landlord,  like  his  inn,  looked  evil  too : 
Small  was  his  nose,  small  were  his  pig-like  eyes, 
But  ears  had  he  of  most  prodigious  size, 
A  brawny  rogue,  thick-jowled  and  beetle-browed, 
Who,  spying  out  our  strangers  'mid  the  crowd, 

30 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Beholding  them  in  humble,  mean  array, 

With  gestures  fierce  did  order  them  away. 

"Nay,"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  "here  will  we  bide, 

Here  will  we  eat  and  drink  and  sleep  beside. 

Go,    bring    us    beef,    dost    hear?     And    therewith 

mead, 
And,  when  we  've  ate,  good  beds  and  clean  we  '11 

need." 
"Ho!"    cried  the    host.     "Naught    unto    ye    I'll 

bring 
Until  yon  Fool  shall  caper  first  and  sing !" 
Said  Jocelyn  :   "I  '11  sing  when  I  have  fed  !" 
"And  then,"  quoth  Pertinax,  "we  will  to  bed !" 
"And  wilt  thou  so?"  the  surly  host  replied; 
"No  beds  for  likes  o'  ye  do  I  provide. 
An'  ye  will  sleep,  knave,  to  the  stable  go, 
The  straw  is  good  enough  for  ye,  I  trow." 

"Ha  !"  roared  Sir  Pertinax.     "A  stable?     Straw? 
This  to  me,  thou  filthy  clapper-claw, 
Thou  fly-blown  cod's-head,  thou  pestiferous  thing  ! " 
And,  roaring,  on  the  brawny  host  did  spring ; 

By  his  large  ears  Sir  Pertinax  did  take  him, 
And  to  and  fro,  and  up  and  down,  did  shake  him ; 
He  shook  him  quick  and  slow,  from  side  to  side, 
While  loud  for  aid  the  shaken  landlord  cried. 
Whereat  the  vicious  crowd,  in  sudden  wrath, 
Shouted    and    cursed    and    plucked    their    daggers 

forth. 
But,  ere  to  harm  our  bold  Knight  they  were  able, 
Duke  Joc'lyn  lightly  sprang  on  massy  table ; 
Cock's-comb  a-flaunt  and  silver  bells  a-ring, 
He  laughing  stood  and  gaily  plucked  lute-string, 
And  cut  an  antic  with  such  merry  grace 
That  angry  shouts  to  laughter  loud  gave  place. 

31 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Thereafter  he  sang  as  followeth  : 


<< 


Bold  bawcocks,  brave,  bibulous,  babbling  boys, 
Tall   tosspots,   come,   temper   this   tumult   and 

noise ; 
So  shall  I  sing  sweetly  such  songs  as  shall  sure 
Constrain  carking  care  and  contumacy  cure. 
Thus,  therefore " 

But  here  the  surly  landlord  raised  much  clamour 
and  outcry,  whiles  he  touched  and  caressed  his  great 
ears  with  rare  gentleness. 

"Oho,  my  yeres!"  roared  he.  "My  yeres  do  be 
in  woeful  estate.  Oho,  what  o'  yon  fierce-fingered 
rogue,  good  fellows,  what  o'  yon  knave  —  'a  did 
twist  my  yeres  plaguily  and  wring  'em  roguishly, 
'a  did  !  Shall  'a  not  be  beaten  and  drubbed  out  into 
the  kennel,  ha?  What  o'  poor  Nykins'  yeres,  says 
I  —  my  yeres,  oho  !" 

"Thine  ears,  unsavoury  scullion,"  laughed 
Jocelyn;  "thine  ears,  forsooth?  Hark  ye,  of  thy 
so  great,  so  fair,  so  fine  ears  I  '11  incontinent  make  a 
song.  List  ye,  one  and  all,  so  shall  all  here  now  hear 
my  song  of  ears  ! "  Forthwith  Duke  Jocelyn  struck 
his  lute  and  sang : 

"Thine  ears,  in  sooth,  are  long  ears, 
Stout  ears,  in  truth,  and  strong  ears, 
Full  ears,  I  trow,  and  fair  ears, 
Round  ears  also  and  rare  ears. 
So  here  's  an  ear  that  all  eyes  here 
Shall  see  no  beauty  in,  't  is  clear. 
For  these  o'  thine  be  such  ears, 
Large,  loose,  and  over-much  ears, 
Ears  that  do  make  fingers  itch, 
Ears  to  twist  and  ears  to  twitch. 

32 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

If  thine  ears  had  gone  unseen, 
Pulled  forsooth  they  had  not  been ; 
Yet,  since  pulled  indeed  they  were, 
Thine  ears  plain  the  blame  must  bear. 
So  of  thine  ears  no  more  complain, 
Lest  that  thine  ears  be  pulled  again. 
So  hide  thine  ears  as  best  ye  may, 
Of  which  same  ears,  to  end,  I  say 
Thine  ears  indeed  be  like  my  song, 
Of  none  account,  yet  over  long  !•" 

Now  hereupon  was  huge  laughter  and  merri- 
ment, insomuch  that  the  thick-jowled  landlord 
betook  himself  otherwhere,  and  all  men  thronged 
upon  our  jester,  vociferous  for  more. 

"Aye,  but,  bold  tosspots,"  laughed  Jocelyn, 
"how  now,  sit  ye  without  wine  in  very  truth?" 

"Not  so,  good  Fool,"  they  cried.  "Here  be 
wine  a-plenty  for  us  and  for  thee!" 

"Go  to,  tall  topers,"  quoth  the  Duke,  "ye  are 
witless,  in  faith,  for  there  is  no  man  here  but  is 
without  wine,  as  in  song  will  I  shew  —  mark  now : 

"  'T  is  plain  that  ye  are  wine  without, 
Since  wine  's  within  ye,  topers  stout. 
Without  your  wine,  ye  whineful  show, 
Thus  wine-full,  wine  without  ye  go. 
Being  then  without  your  wine,  't  is  true, 
Wine-less,  ye  still  are  wine-full  too. 
But,  mark !     As  thus  ye  wine-full  sit, 
Since  wine  's  within,  out  goeth  wit. 
Thus,  truth  to  tell,  tall  topers  stout, 
Both  wine  and  wit  ye  go  without ! " 

By  such  tricks  of  rhyme,  jugglery  of  words,  and 
the  like,  Duke  Jocelyn  won  this  fierce  company  to 

33 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

great  good  humour  and  delight;  insomuch  that 
divers  of  these  roysterers  pressed  wine  upon  him  and 
money  galore.  But,  the  hour  growing  late,  he 
contrived  at  last  to  steal  away  with  Sir  Pertinax, 
which  last,  having  fed  copiously,  now  yawned  con- 
sumedly,  eager  for  bed.  Howbeit,  despite  the 
Knight's  fierce  threats,  they  found  no  bed  was  to 
be  had  in  all  the  inn,  and  so,  perforce,  betook  them 
at  last  to  the  stable. 

There,  while  our  Knight  cursed  softly,  though  full 

deep, 
Soon  in  the  straw  our  Duke  fell  fast  asleep. 

My  daughter  Gillian  propoundeth: 

Gill  :        O,  father,  dear,  I  greatly  fear 

You  '11  never  be  a  poet ! 
Myself  :  Don't  be  too  hard  upon  the  bard, 
I  know  it,  girl,  I  know  it ! 
These  last  two  lines,  I  quite  agree, 
Might  easily  much  better  be. 
Though,  on  the  whole,  I  think  my  verse, 
When  all  is  said,  might  be  much  worse. 
Gill  :         Worse,  father  ?     Yes,  perhaps  you  're  right, 

Upon  the  whole  —  perhaps,  it  might. 
Myself  :  But  hark  now,  miss  !    Attend  to  this  ! 
Poetic  flights  I  do  not  fly ; 
When  I  begin,  like  poor  Lobkyn, 

I  merely  rhyme  and  versify. 
Since  my  shortcomings  I  avow, 
The  story  now,  you  must  allow, 
Trips  lightly  and  in  happy  vein  ? 
Gill  :         O,  yes,  father,  though  it  is  rather 

Like  some  parts  of  your  "Beltane." 
Myself  :    How,  child  !    Dare  you  accuse  your  sire 
Of  plagiary  —  that  sin  most  dire  ? 
And  if  I  do,  small  blame  there  lies ; 
It  is  myself  I  plagiarise. 

34 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Gill  :        Why,  yes,  of  course !    And,  as  you  know. 

I  always  loved  your  "Beltane"  so. 
Myself  :  But  don't  you  like  the  "geste"  I  'm  writing? 
Gill  :        Of  course  !     It  's  getting  most  exciting, 

In  spite  of  all  the  rhymes  and  stuff 

Myself:  Stuff? 

Enough ! 

My  daughter,  you  're  so  sweetly  frank. 

Henceforth  my  verses  shall  be  blank. 

No  other  rhyme  I  '11  rhyme  for  you 

Till  you  politely  beg  me  to. 

Now  then,  your  blank-verse  doom  you  know, 

Hey,  presto,  and  away  we  go ! 


35 


FYTTE  3 


Tell'th  how  Duke  Jocelyn  of  love  did  sing, 
And  haughty  knight  in  lily-pool  did  fling. 

Upon  a  morn,  when  dewy  flowers  fresh-waked 
Filled  the  glad  air  with  perfume  languorous, 
And  piping  birds  a  pretty  tumult  made, 
Thrilling  the  day  with  blended  ecstasy ; 
When  dew  in  grass  did  light  a  thousand  fires, 
And  gemmed  the  green  in  flashing  bravery  — 
Forth  of  her  bower  the  fair  Yolanda  came, 
Fresh  as  the  morn  and,  like  the  morning,  young, 
Who,  as  she  breathed  the  soft  and  fragrant  air, 
Felt  her  white  flesh  a- thrill  with  joyous  life, 
And  heart  that  leapt  responsive  to  the  joy. 
Vivid  with  life  she  trod  the  flowery  ways, 
Dreaming  awhile  of  love  and  love  and  love ; 
Unknowing  all  of  eyes  that  watched  unseen, 
Viewing  her  body's  gracious  loveliness  : 
Her  scarlet  mouth,  her  deep  and  dreamful  eyes, 
The  glowing  splendour  of  her  sun-kissed  hair, 
Which  in  thick  braids  o'er  rounded  bosom  fell 
Past  slender  waist  by  jewelled  girdle  bound. 

So  stood  Duke  Jocelyn  amid  the  leaves, 

And  marked  how,  as  she  walked,  her  silken  gown 

Did  cling  her  round  in  soft  embrace,  as  though 

Itself  had  sense  and  wit  enough  to  love  her. 

Entranced  he  stood,  bound  by  her  beauty's  spell, 

Whereby  it  seemed  he  did  in  her  behold 

The  beauty  of  all  fair  and  beauteous  things. 

36 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Now  leaned  she  o'er  a  pool  where  lilies  pale 
Oped  their  shy  beauties  to  the  gladsome  day, 
Yet  in  their  beauty  none  of  them  so  fair 
As  that  fair  face  the  swooning  waters  held. 
And  as,  glad-eyed,  she  viewed  her  loveliness, 
She  fell  to  singing,  soft  and  low  and  sweet, 
Clear  and  full-throated  as  a  piping  merle, 
And  this  the  manner  of  her  singing  was : 

"What  is  love?     Ah,  who  shall  say? 
Flower  to  languish  in  a  day, 
Bird  on  wing  that  will  away. 
Love,  I  do  defy  thee  ! 

"What  is  love?     A  toy  so  vain 
'T  is  but  found  to  lose  again, 
Painful  sweet  and  sweetest  pain ; 
Ah,  love,  come  not  nigh  me. 

"But,  love,  an  thou  com'st  to  me, 
Wert  thou  as  I  'd  have  thee  be, 
Welcome  sweet  I  'd  make  for  thee, 
And  weary  of  thee  never. 

"  If  with  thy  heart  thou  could'st  endure, 
If  thou  wert  strong  and  thou  wert  sure, 
A  master  now,  and  now  a  wooer, 
Thy  slave  I  'd  be  for  ever." 

Thus  sang  she  sweet  beside  the  lily-pool, 
Unknowing  any  might  her  singing  hear, 
When  rose  another  voice,  so  rich,  so  full 
As  thrilled  her  into  rapt  and  pleasing  wonder ; 
And  as  she  hearkened  to  these  deep-sung  words, 
She  flushed  anon  and  dimpled  to  a  smile : 

37 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"What  is  love?     'Tis  this,  I  say, 
Flower  that  springeth  in  a  day, 
Bird  of  joy  to  sing  alway, 
Deep  in  the  heart  of  me. 

"What  is  love?     A  joyous  pain 
That  I  ne'er  may  lose  again, 
Since  for  ever  I  am  fain 
To  think  and  dream  of  thee." 

Now  hasted  she  to  part  the  leafy  screen, 
And  one  in  motley  habit  thus  beheld. 
But  when  'neath  flaunting  cock's-comb  she  did  mark 
His  blemished  face,  she  backward  from  him  drew 
And  caught  her  breath,  and  yet  upon  him  gazed 
'Neath  wrinkled  brow,  the  while  Duke  Jocelyn 
Read  the  expected  horror  in  her  eyes : 
Wherefore  he  bowed  his  head  upon  his  breast 
And  plucked  at  belt  with  sudden,  nervous  hand 
As,  cold  and  proud  and  high,  she  questioned  him : 
"What  thing  art  thou  that  'neath  thy  hood  doth  show 
A  visage  that  might  shame  the  gladsome  day?" 

Whereto  he  answered,  low  and  humble-wise : 

"A  Fool !  The  very  fool  of  fools  am  I  — 

A  Fool  that  fain  would  pluck  the  sun  from  heaven." 

"Begone!"  she  sighed.     "Thy  look  doth  make  me 

cold, 
E'en  as  I  stand  thus  i'  the  kindly  sun. 
Yet,  an  thou  'rt  poor  as  thy  mean  habit  speaks  thee, 
Take  first  this  dole  for  tender  Jesu's  sake." 

Then  answered  Jocelyn  on  lowly  knee : 
"For  thy  sweet  bounty  I  do  thank  thee  well, 
But,  in  good  sooth,  so  great  a  fool  am  I, 
'Stead  of  thy  gold  I  rather  would  possess 

38 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Yon  happy  flower  that  in  thy  bosom  bloometh. 

Give  me  but  this  and  richer  fool  am  I 

Than  any  knight-like  fool  that  coucheth  lance  — 

Greater  I  than  any  lord  soever, 

Aye  —  e'en  Duke  Jocelyn  of  Brocelaunde." 

Smiled  now  Yolande  with  rosy  lip  up-curving, 
While  in  soft  cheek  a  roguish  dimple  played. 
Quoth  she :   "Duke  Jocelyn,  I  've  heard  it  said, 
Is  great  and  rich,  a  mighty  man-at-arms, 
And  thou  but  sorry  Fool  in  mean  array, 
Yet"  —  from  white  fingers  she  let  fall  the  flower  — 
"Be  thou,  Fool,  greater  than  this  mighty  Duke  ! 
And  now,  since  mighty  Fool  and  rich  I  've  made  thee, 
In  quittance  I  would  win  of  thee  a  song." 

Now  sat  Yolande,  white  chin  on  dimpled  fist, 
Viewing  him  o'er  with  cruel,  maiden-eyes, 
So  swift  to  heed  each  outward  mark  and  blemish 
(Since  maids  be  apt  to  sly  disparagement, 
And  scorn  of  all  that  seems  un-beautiful) 
While  he  did  lean  him  by  the  marble  rim, 
His  wistful  gaze  down-bent  upon  the  pool, 
Feeling  her  look  and  knowing  while  she  looked  : 
What  time  he  touched  his  lute  with  fingers  skilled, 
And  so  fell  singing,  wonder-low  and  sweet : 

'Though  foul  and  harsh  of  face  am  I, 

Lady  fair  —  O  lady  ! 
Fair  thoughts  within  my  heart  may  lie, 
As  flowers  that  bloom  unseen  to  die, 

Lady  fair  —  O  lady  ! 

"Though  this  my  hateful  face  may  fright  thee, 

Lady  fair  —  O  list ! 
My  folly  mayhap  shall  delight  thee, 
A  song  of  fools  I  will  recite  thee, 

Lady  fair  — O  list!" 

39 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Herewith  he  sighed  amain,  but  smiled  anon, 
And  fell  anon  to  blither,  louder  note : 

"Sing  hey,  Folly  —  Folly  ho, 
And  here  's  a  song  of  Folly, 
All  'neath  the  sun, 
Will  gladly  run 
Away  from  Melancholy. 

"And  Fool,  forsooth,  a  Fool  am  I, 
Well  learned  in  foolish  lore  : 
For  I  can  sing  ye,  laugh  or  sigh : 
Can  any  man  do  more  ? 
Hey,  Folly  —  Folly,  ho  ! 
'Gainst  sadness  bar  the  door. 

"A  Fool  am  I,  yet  by  fair  leave, 
Poor  Fools  have  hearts  to  feel. 
Poor  Fools,  like  other  fools,  may  grieve 
If  they  their  woes  conceal. 
Hither,  Folly  —  Folly,  ho  ! 
All  Fools  to  Folly  kneel. 


"  What  though  a  Fool  be  melancholy, 
Sick,  sick  at  heart  —  heigho  ! 
Pain  must  he  hide  'neath  laughing  Folly, 
What  Fool  should  heed  his  woe ! 
Hither,  Folly  —  Folly,  ho  ! 
Fool  must  unpitied  go. 

"E'en  though  a  Fool  should  fondly  woo, 
E'en  though  his  love  be  high, 
Poor  Folly's  fool  must  wear  the  rue, 
Proud  love  doth  pass  him  by. 
Heigho,  Folly  —  Folly,  ho  ! 
Poor  Fool  may  love  —  and  die. 

40 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Though  Wisdom  should  in  motley  go, 
And  fools  the  wise  man  ape ; 
Who  is  there  that  shall  Wisdom  know 
Beneath- a  'scalloped  cape? 
Heigho,  Folly  —  Folly,  ho ! 
Life  is  but  sorry  jape. 

"  So,  hey,  Folly  —  Folly,  ho ! 
And  here  's  a  song  o'  Folly, 
All  'neath  the  sun 
Do  gladly  run 
Away  from  Melancholy." 

The  singing  done,  she  viewed  him  kinder-eyed, 
Till  eyes  met  eyes  —  when  she  did  pout  and  frown, 
And  chid  him  that  his  song  was  something  sad, 
And  vowed  so  strange  a  Fool  was  never  seen. 
Then  did  she  question  him  in  idle  wise 
As,  who  he  was  and  whence  he  came  and  why  ? 
Whereto  the  Duke 

My  daughter  giluan  interposeth  : 

Gill  :        Dear  father,  if  you  're  in  the  vein, 
I  'd  like  a  little  rhyme  again ; 
For  blank  verse  is  so  hard  to  read, 
And  yours  is  very  blank  indeed  ! 

Myself  :  Girl,  when  blank  verse  I  write  for  thee, 
I  write  it  blank  as  blank  can  be. 
Stay,  I  '11  declare  (no  poet  franker) 
No  blank  verse,  Gill,  was  ever  blanker. 

But: 
Since,  with  your  sex's  sweet  inconstancy, 
Rhymes   now   you    wish,  rhymes   now  I  '11 

rhyme  for  thee : 
As  thus,  my  dear  — 
Give  ear : 

41 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Whereto  the  Duke  did  instant  make  reply : 

"Sweet  lady,  since  you  question  me, 
Full  blithely  I  will  answer  thee ; 
And,  since  you  fain  would  merry  be, 
I  '11  sing  and  rhyme  it  merrily  : 

"Since  Mirth's  my  trade  and  follies  fond, 
Methinks  a  fair  name  were  Joconde ; 

And  for  thy  sake 

I  travail  make 

Through  briar  and  brake, 

O'er  fen  and  lake, 
The  Southward  March  beyond. 

"For  I  an  embassage  do  bear, 
Now  unto  thee,  Yolande  the  fair, 
Which  embassy, 
Now  unto  thee, 
Right  soothfully, 
And  truthfully, 
Most  full,  most  free, 
Explicit  I  '11  declare. 

"  Thus :  videlicit  and  to  wit, 
Sith  now  thou  art  to  wedlock  fit  — 

Both  day  and  night 

In  dark,  in  light 

A  worthy  knight, 

A  lord  of  might, 

In  his  own  right, 

Duke  Joc'lyn  hight 
To  thine  his  heart  would  knit. 

"But,  since  the  Duke  may  not  come  to  thee, 
I,  in  his  stead,  will  humbly  sue  thee ; 
His  love  each  day 
I  will  portray 

42 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

As  best  I  may ; 
I  '11  sue,  I  '11  pray, 
I  '11  sing,  I  '11  play, 
Now  grave,  now  gay, 
And  in  this  way, 
I  for  the  Duke  will  woo  thee." 

Now,  fair  Yolanda  gazed  with  wide-oped  eyes, 
And  checked  sweet  breath  for  wonder  and  surprise ; 
Then  laughed  full  blithe  and  yet,  anon,  did  frown, 
And  with  slim  fingers  plucked  at  purfled  gown : 


"And  is  it  thou  —  a  sorry  Fool,"  she  cried. 
"Art  sent  to  win  this  mighty  Duke  a  bride?" 

"E'en  so  !"  quoth  he.    "Whereof  I  token  bring; 

Behold,  fair  maid,  Duke  Joc'lyn's  signet  ring." 

"Heaven's  love  !"  she  cried.     "And  can  it  truly  be 

The  Duke  doth  send  a  mountebank  like  thee, 

A  Fool  that  hath  nor  likelihood  nor  grace 

From  worn-out  shoon  unto  thy  blemished  face  — 

A  face  so  scarred  —  so  hateful  that  meseems 

At  night  't  will  haunt  and  fright  me  with  ill  dreams ; 

A  slave  so  base " 

"E'en  so  !"  Duke  Joc'lyn  sighed, 
And  his  marred  visage  'neath  his  hood  did  hide. 
"But,  though  my  motley  hath  thy  pride  distressed, 
I  am  the  Fool  Duke  Joc'lyn  loveth  best. 
And  —  ah,  my  lady,  thou  shalt  never  see 
In  all  this  world  a  Fool  the  like  of  me !" 

Thus  spake  the  Duke,  and  then  awhile  stood  mute, 
And  idly  struck  sweet  chords  upon  his  lute, 
Watching  Yolande's  fair,  frowning  face  the  while, 
With  eyes  that  held  a  roguish,  wistful  smile. 
She,  meeting  now  these  eyes  of  laughing  blue, 
Felt  her  cheeks  burn,  and  sudden  angry  grew. 

43 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

So  up  she  rose  in  proud  and  stately  fashion, 

And  stamped  slim  foot  at  him  in  sudden  passion ; 

And  vowed  that  of  Duke  Joc'lyn  she  cared  naught ; 

That  if  he  'd  woo,  by  him  she  must  be  sought ; 

Vowed  if  he  wooed  his  wooing  should  be  vain, 

And,  as  he  came,  he  back  should  go  again. 

"  For,  since  the  Duke,"  she  cried,  "dare  send  to  me 

A  sorry  wight,  a  very  Fool  like  thee, 

By  thy  Fool's  mouth  I  bid  thee  to  him  say, 

He  ne'er  shall  win  me,  woo  he  as  he  may ; 

Say  that  I  know  him  not " 


<<  - 


Yet,"  spake  Duke  Joc'lyn  soft, 
"E'er  this,  methinks,  thou  'st  seen  my  lord  full  oft. 
When  at  the  joust  thou  wert  fair  Beauty's  queen 
Duke  Joc'lyn  by  thy  hand  oft  crowned  hath  been." 
"True,  Fool,"  she  answered,  'twixt  a  smile  and  frown, 
"I  've  seen  him  oft,  but  with  his  vizor  down. 
And  verily  he  is  a  doughty  knight, 
But  wherefore  doth  he  hide  his  face  from  sight?" 

"His  face?"  quoth  Joc'lyn  with  a  gloomy  look, 
"His  face,  alack  !"     And  here  his  head  he  shook; 
"His  face,  ah  me  !"     And  here  Duke  Joc'lyn  sighed, 

"  His  face "  "  What  of  his  face  ?  "    Yolanda  cried. 

"A  mercy's  name,  speak  —  speak  and  do  not  fail.' 
"Lady,"  sighed  Joc'lyn,  "thereby  hangs  a  tale, 
The  which,  though  strange  it  sound,  is  verity, 
That  here  and  now  I  will  relate  to  thee  — 
'T  is  ditty  dire  of  dismal  doating  dames, 
A  lay  of  love-lorn,  loveless  languishment, 
And  ardent,  amorous,  anxious  anguishment, 
Full-fed  forsooth  of  fierce  and  fiery  flames ; 

So  hark, 

And  mark : 
In  Brocelaunde  not  long  ago, 
Was  born  Duke  Jocelyn.     I  trow 

44 


>> 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Not  all  the  world  a  babe  could  show, 
A  babe  so  near  divine  : 

For,  truth  to  tell, 

He  waxed  so  well, 

So  fair  o'  face, 

So  gay  o'  grace, 

That  people  all, 

Both  great  and  small, 

Where'er  he  went, 

In  wonderment 

Would  stare  and  stare 

To  see  how  fair 
A  lad  was  Jocelyn. 

And  when  to  man's  estate  he  came, 
Alack,  fair  lady,  't  was  the  same  ! 
And  many  a  lovely,  love-lorn  dame 
Would  pitiful  pant  and  pine. 

These  doleful  dames 

Felt  forceful  flames, 

The  old,  the  grey, 

The  young  and  gay, 

Both  dark  and  fair 

Would  rend  their  hair, 

And  sigh  and  weep 

And  seldom  sleep ; 

And  dames  long  wed 

From  spouses  fled 
For  love  of  Jocelyn. 

Therefore  the  Duke  an  oath  did  take 
By  one,  by  two,  by  three, 

That  for  these  love-lorn  ladies'  sake 
No  maid  his  face  should  see. 

And  thus  it  is,  where'er  he  rideth 

His  love-begetting  face  he  hideth." 

45 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Now  laughed  Yolande,  her  scorn  forgotten  quite, 
"Alas!"   she  cried.    "Poor  Duke!    O  woeful  plight ! 
And  yet,  O  Fool,  good  Fool,  full  fain  am  I, 

This  ducal,  love-begetting  face  to  spy " 

Quoth  Joc'lyn :  "Then,  my  lady,  prithee,  look !" 
And  from  his  bosom  he  a  picture  took. 

"Since  this  poor  face  of  mine  doth  so  affright  thee 
Here 's  one  of  paint  that  mayhap  shall  delight  thee. 
Take  it,  Yolande,  for  thee  the  craftsmen  wrought  it, 
For  thee  I  from  Duke  Jocelyn  have  brought  it. 
If  day  and  night  thou  'It  wear  it,  fair  Yolande," 
And  speaking  thus,  he  gave  it  to  her  hand.     , 
Its  golden  frame  full  many  a  jewel  bore, 
But  't  was  the  face,  the  face  alone  she  saw. 
And  viewing  it,  Yolanda  did  behold 
A  manly  face,  yet  of  a  god-like  mould. 
Breathless  she  sate,  nor  moved  she  for  a  space, 
Held  by  the  beauty  of  this  painted  face ; 
'Neath  drooping  lash  she  viewed  it  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  ever  as  she  gazed  new  charms  she  saw. 
Then,  gazing  yet,  "  Who  —  what  is  this  ?  "  she  sighed. 
"Paint,  lady,  paint !"  Duke  Joc'lyn  straight  replied, 
"  The  painted  visage  of  my  lord  it  shows  — 

Item :   one  mouth,  two  eyes  and  eke  a  nose " 

"Nay, Fool,"  she  murmured,  "here  's  a  f ace, meseems, 

I  oft  have  seen  ere  now  within  my  dreams ; 

These  dove-soft  eyes  in  dreams  have  looked  on  me !" 

Quoth  Joc'lyn  :  "Yet  these  eyes  can  nothing  see !" 

"These  tender  lips  in  accents  sweet  I  've  heard  !" 

Quoth  Joc'lyn:    "Yet  —  they  ne'er  have  spoke  a 

word ! 
But  here 's  a  face  at  last  doth  please  thee  well 
Yet  hath  no  power  to  speak,  see,  sigh  or  smell, 

46 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Since  tongueless,  sightless,  breathless  't  is  —  thus  I 
A  sorry  Fool  its  needs  must  e'en  supply. 
And  whiles  thou  doatest  on  yon  painted  head 
My  tongue  I  '11  lend  to  woo  thee  in  its  stead. 

I  '11  woo  with  wit 

As  seemeth  fit, 

Whiles  there  thou  sit 

And  gaze  on  it. 

Whiles  it  ye  see 

Its  voice  I  '11  be 

And  plead  with  thee, 

So  hark  to  me  : 
Yolande,  I  love  thee  in  true  loving  way ; 
That  is,  I  '11  learn  to  love  thee  more  each  day, 
Until  so  great  my  growing  love  shall  grow, 
This  puny  world  in  time  't  will  overflow. 
To-day  I  love,  and  yet  my  love  is  such 
That  I  to-morrow  shall  have  twice  as  much. 
Thus  lovingly  to  love  thee  I  will  learn 
Till  thou  shalt  learn  Love's  lesson  in  thy  turn, 
And  find  therein  how  sweet  this  world  can  be 
When  as  I  love,  thou,  love,  shall  so  love  me." 

"Hush,  hush  !"  she  sighed,  and  to  her  ruddy  lip 

She  sudden  pressed  one  rosy  finger-tip. 

And  then,  O  happy  picture !     Swift  from  sight 

She  hid  it  in  her  fragrant  bosom  white. 

"O  Fool,"  she  cried,  "get  thee  behind  yon  tree, 

And  thou  a  very  Fool  indeed  shall  see, 

A  knightly  fool  who  sighs  and  groans  in  verse 

And  oft-times  woos  in  song,  the  which  is  worse." 

For  now  they  heard  a  voice  that  sung  most  harsh, 

That  shrilled  and  croaked  like  piping  frog  in  marsh, 

A  voice  that  near  and  ever  nearer  drew 

Until  the  lordly  singer  strode  in  view. 

A  noble  singer  he,  both  tall  and  slender, 

47 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

With  locks  be-curled  and  clad  in  pompous  splendour ; 

His  mantle  of  rich  velvet  loose  did  flow, 

As  if  his  gorgeous  habit  he  would  show ; 

A  jewelled  bonnet  on  his  curls  he  bore, 

With  nodding  feather  bravely  decked  before ; 

He  was  a  lover  very  point  de  vice, 

And  all  about  him,  save  his  voice,  was  nice. 

Thus  loudly  sang,  with  lungs  both  sound  and  strong 

This  worthy  knight,  Sir  Palamon  of  Tong. 

"O  must  I  groan 
And  make  my  moan 
And  live  alone  alway  ? 
Yea,  I  must  sigh 
And  droop  and  die, 
If  she  reply,  nay,  nay ! 

"I  groan  for  thee, 
I  moan  for  thee, 
Alone  for  thee  I  pine. 
All 's  ill  for  me 
Until  for  me 
She  will  for  me  be  mine." 

But  now,  beholding  Yolande  amid  her  flowers, 
herself  as  sweet  and  fresh  as  they,  he  made  an  end 
of  his  singing  and  betook  him,  straightway,  to  amo- 
rous looks  and  deep-fetched  sighs  together  with 
many  supple  bendings  of  the  back,  elegant  postur- 
ings  and  motitions  of  slim  legs,  fannings  and  flaunt- 
ings  of  be-feathered  cap,  and  the  like  gallantries; 
and  thereafter  fell  to  his  wooing  on  this  fashion  : 

"Lady,  O  lady  of  lovely  ladies  most  loved !  Fair 
lady  of  hearts,  sweet  dame  of  tenderness,  tender  me 
thine  ears,  suffer  one,  hath  sighed  and  suffered  for 
sake  of  thee,  to  sightful  sue.     Lovely  thou  art  and 

48 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

therefore  to  be  loved,  and  day  and  night  thou  and 
Love  the  sum  of  my  excogitations  art,  wherefore  I, 
with  loving  art,  am  hither  come  to  woo  thee,  since, 
lady,  I  do  love  thee." 

"  Alack,  Sir  Palamon  ! "  she  sighed,  "  and  is  it  so  ?  " 

"Alack!"  he  answered,  "so  it  is.  Yest're'en  I 
did  proclaim  thee  fairer  than  all  fair  ladies ;  to-day 
thou  art  yet  fairer,  thus  this  day  thou  art  fairer  than 
thyself ;  the  which,  though  a  paradox,  is  yet  wittily 
true  and  truly  witty,  methinks.  But  as  for  me — 
for  me,  alas  for  me !  I  am  forsooth  the  very  slave 
of  love,  fettered  fast  by  Dan  Cupid,  a  slave  grievous 
and  woeful,  yet,  being  thy  slave,  joying  in  my 
slavery  and  happy  in  my  grievous  woe.  Thus  it  is 
I  groan  and  moan,  lady;  I  pine,  repine  and  pine 
again  most  consumedly.  I  sleep  little  and  eat  less, 
I  am,  in  fine  and  in  all  ways,  'haviours,  manners, 
customs,  feints  and  fashions  soever,  thy  lover 
manifest,  confessed,  subject,  abject,  in  season  and 
out  of  season,  yearly,  monthly,  daily,  hourly,  and 
by  the  minute.     Moreover " 

"Beseech  thee  !"  she  cried,  "Oh,  beseech  thee,  take 
thy  breath." 

"Gramercy,  'tis  done,  lady,  'tis  done,  and  now 
forthwith  resolved  am  I  to  sing  thee " 

"Nay,  I  pray  you,  sir,  sing  no  more,  but  resolve 
me  this  mystery.     What  is  love?" 

"Love,  lady?  Verily  that  will  I  in  truth !"  And 
herewith  Sir  Palamon  fell  to  an  attitude  of  thought 
with  eyes  ecstatic,  with  knitted  brows  and  sage 
nodding  of  the  head.  "Love,  my  lady —  ha  !  Love, 
lady  is  —  hum  !  Love,  then,  perceive  me,  is  of  its 
nature  elemental,  being  of  the  elements,  as  't  were, 
composed  and  composite,  as  water,  air  and  fire. 
For,  remark  me,  there  is  no  love  but  begetteth  first 
water,   which   is   tears;   air,   which  is  sighings  and 

49 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

groanings;  and  fire,  which  is  heart-burnings  and 
the  like.  Thus  is  love  a  passion  elemental.  But 
yet,  and  heed  me,  lady,  love  is  also  metaphysical, 
being  a  motition  of  the  soul  and  e'en  the  spirit,  and 
being  of  the  spirit  't  is  ghostly,  and  being  ghostly 
't  is  —  ha !  Who  comes  hither  to  shatter  the  placid 
mirror  of  my  thoughts  ?  " 

So  saying,  the  noble  knight  of  Tong  turned  to 
behold  one  who  strode  towards  them  in  haste,  a 
tall  man  this  whose  black  brows  scowled  fierce  upon 
the  day,  and  who  spurned  the  tender  flowers  with 
foot  ungentle  as  he  came. 

A  tall,  broad-shouldered,  haughty  lord  was  he, 
With  chin  full  square  and  eyes  of  mastery, 
At  sight  of  whom,  Yolanda's  laughter  failed, 
And  in  her  cheek  the  rosy  colour  paled. 

Quoth  he :   "Sir  Palamon,  now  of  thy  grace, 
And  of  thy  courteous  friendship  yield  me  place, 
To  this  fair  lady  I  a  word  would  say. 
Thus  do  I  for  thy  courteous-absence  pray, 
I  am  thy  friend,  Sir  Knight,  as  thou  dost  know, 

But " 

"My  lord,"  quoth  Sir  Palamon,  "I  go  — 
Friendship  methinks  is  a  most  holy  bond, 
A  bond  I  hold  all  binding  bonds  beyond, 
And  thou  'rt  a  friend  right  potent,  my  lord  Gui, 
So  to  thy  will  I  willingly  comply.  j 

Thus,  since  thy  friendship  I  hold  passing  dear, 
Thou  need  but  ask  —  and  lo  !     I  am  not  here." 
Thus  having  said,  low  bowed  this  courtly  knight, 
Then  turned  about  and  hasted  out  of  sight. 

j    ■ 

"And  now,  my  lady,"  quoth  Sir  Gui,  frowning 
upon  her  loveliness,  "and  now  having  discharged 

50 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

yon  gaudy  wind-bag,  what  of  this  letter  I  did  re- 
ceive but  now  —  behold  it!"  and  speaking,  he 
snatched  a  crumpled  missive  from  his  bosom.  "Be- 
hold it,  I  say !" 

"Indeed,  my  lord,  I  do,"  she  answered,  proud 
and  disdainful;  "it  is,  methinks,  my  answer  to 
thy  loathed  suit " 

"Loathed  !"  he  cried,  and  caught  her  slender  wrist, 

And  held  it  so,  crushed  in  his  cruel  fist ; 

But  proud  she  faced  him,  shapely  head  raised  high. 

"Most  loathed,  my  lord  !"  she,  scornful,  made  reply. 

"For  rather  than  I  'd  wed  myself  with  thee, 

The  wife  of  poorest,  humblest  slave  I  'd  be, 

Or  sorriest  fool  that  tramps  the  dusty  way " 

"Ha !  Dare  thou  scorn  me  so?"  Sir  Gui  did  say, 
"Then  I  by  force  —  by  force  will  sudden  take  thee, 
And  slave  of  love,  my  very  slave  I  '11  make  thee " 

Out  from  the  leaves  Duke  Joc'lyn  thrust  his  head, 
"O  fie  !     Thou  naughty,  knavish  knight !"  he  said. 
"O  tush  !     O  tush  !     O  tush  again  —  go  to ! 
'T  is  windy,  whining,  wanton  way  to  woo. 
What  tushful  talk  is  this  of  'force'  and  'slaves,' 
Thou  naughty,  knavish,  knightly  knave  of  knaves  ? 
Unhand  the  maid  —  loose  thy  offensive  paw  !" 
Round  sprang  Sir  Gui,  and,  all  astonished,  saw 
A  long-legged  jester  who  behind  him  stood 
With  head  out-thrust,  grim-smiling  'neath  his  hood. 

"  Plague  take  thee,  Fool !     Out  o'  my  sight ! "  growled 

he, 
"Or  cropped  thine  ugly  nose  and  ears  shall  be. 
Begone,  base  rogue !      Haste,    dog,    and    get    thee 

hence, 
Thy  folly  pleadeth  this  thy  Fool's  offence  — 

51 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Yet  go,  or  of  thy  motley  shalt  be  stripped, 

And    from    the     town    I  '11    have    thee    shrewdly 

whipped, 
For  Lord  of  Ells  and  Raddemore  am  I, 
Though  folk,  I  've  heard,  do  call  me  'Red  Sir  Gui,' 
Since  blood  is  red  and  —  I  am  Gui  the  Red." 
"Red  Gui?"    quoth  Joc'lyn.     "Art  thou  Gui  the 

dread  — 
Red  Gui  —  in  faith  ?     Of  him  Dame  Rumour  saith, 
His  ways  be  vile  but  viler  still  —  his  breath. 
Now  though  a  life  vile  lived  is  thing  most  ill, 
Yet  some  do  think  a  vile  breath  viler  still." 

Swift,  swift  as  lightning  from  a  summer  sky, 

Out  flashed  the  vengeful  dagger  of  Sir  Gui, 

And  darting  with  a  deadly  stroke  and  fierce, 

Did  Joc'lyn' s  motley  habit  rend  and  pierce, 

Whereat  with  fearful  cry  up  sprang  Yolande, 

But  this  strange  jester  did  grim-smiling  stand. 

Quoth  he  :  "Messire,  a  fool  in  very  truth, 

The  fool  of  foolish  fools  he  'd  be,  in  sooth, 

Who  'd  play  a  quip  or  so,  my  lord,  with  thee 

Unless  in  triple  armour  dight  were  he ; 

And  so  it  is  this  jester  doth  not  fail 

With  such  as  thou  to  jest  in  shirt  of  mail. 

Now  since  my  heart  thy  foolish  point  hath  missed 

Thy  dagger  —  thus  I  answer  —  with  my  fist !" 

Then  swift  he  leapt  and,  even  as  he  spoke, 

He  fetched  the  knight  so  fierce  and  fell  a  stroke 

That,  reeling,  on  the  greensward  sank  Sir  Gui, 

And  stared,  wide-eyed,  unseeing,  at  the  sky. 

Right  firmly  then  upon  his  knightly  breast 

Duke  Joc'lyn's  worn  and  dusty  shoe  did  rest, 

And  while  Yolande   stood   white   and   dumb   with 

fear, 
Thus  sang  the  Duke  full  blithely  and  full  clear : 

52 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"  Oirt  thou  art  since  thou  art  dust, 
t>nd  shalt  to  dust  return ; 
Meanwhile  Folly  as  he  lust 
!z;ow  thy  base  dust  doth  spurn. 

"  *!ea,  lord,  though  thy  rank  be  high, 
One  day,  since  e'en  lords  must  die, 
cinder  all  men's  feet  thou  'It  lie." 

Now,  fierce,  Sir  Gui  did  curse  the  Fool  amain, 
And,  cursing,  strove  his  dagger  to  regain. 
But  Joc'lyn  stooped,  in  mighty  arms  he  swung  him, 
And  down  into  the  lily-pool  he  flung  him. 

With  splash  resounding  fell  the  noble  knight, 
Then  gurgling  rose  in  damp  and  sorry  plight, 
Whiles  Joc'lyn,  leaning  o'er  the  marble  rim, 
With  lifted  finger  thus  admonished  him  : 

"Red  Gui, 
Dread  Gui, 
Lest  a  dead  Gui, 
Gui,  I  make  of  thee, 
Understand,  Gui, 
Fair  Yolande,  Gui, 
Humbly  wooed  must  be. 

"So,  Gui, 
Know,  Gui, 
Ere  thou  go,  Gui, 
Gui  they  call  the  Red ; 
And  thou  'It  woo,  Gui, 
Humbly  sue,  Gui, 
Lest  Love  strike  thee  dead. 

"  Now  while  thou  flound'rest  in  yon  pool, 
Learn  thou  this  wisdom  of  a  Fool ; 

53 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Cold  water  oft  can  passion  cool 
And  fiery  ardours  slake ; 
Thus,  sir,  since  water  quencheth  fire, 
So  let  it  soothe  away  thine  ire. 
Then  —  go  seek  thee  garments  drier 
Lest  a  rheum  thou  take." 

Sir  Gui  did  gasp,  and  gasping,  strove  to  curse, 

Whereat  he,  gasping,  did  but  gasp  the  worse, 

Till,  finding  he  could  gasp,  but  nothing  say, 

He  shook  clenched  fist  and,  gasping,  strode  away. 

Then  Joc'lyn  turned  and  thus  beheld  Yolande, 

Who  trembling  all  and  pale  of  cheek  did  stand. 

"O   Fool!"    she  sighed.     "Poor   Fool,   what  hast 

thou  done?" 
Quoth  he :  "Yolande,  to  woo  thee  I  've  begun, 
I  better  might  have  wooed,  it  is  most  true, 
If  other  wooers  had  not  wooed  thee  too." 
"Nay,   Fool!"    she  whispered.     "O  beware  —  be- 
ware ! 
Death  —  death  for  thee  is  in  the  very  air. 
From  Canalise,  in  haste,  I  bid  thee  fly, 
For  'vengeful  lord  and  cruel  is  Sir  Gui. 
Take  now  this  gold  to  aid  thee  on  thy  way, 
And  for  thy  life  upon  my  knees  I  '11  pray, 
And  with  the  holy  angels  intercede 
To  comfort  thee  and  aid  thee  in  thy  need. 
And  so  —  farewell!"     Thus,  speaking,  turned  Yo- 
lande. 
But  Joc'lyn  stayed  her  there  with  gentle  hand, 
Whereat  she  viewed  him  o'er  in  mute  surprise, 
To  see  the  radiant  gladness  of  his  eyes. 
Quoth  he  :   "Yolande,  since  thou  wilt  pray  for  me, 
Of  thy  sweet  prayers  fain  would  I  worthy  be. 
This  I  do  know  —  let  Death  come  when  he  may, 
The  love  I  bear  thee  shall  live  on  alway. 

54 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Nor  will  I  strive  to  leave  grim  Death  behind  me, 
Since  when  Death  wills  methinks  he  sure  will  find 

me; 
As  in  the  world  Death  roameth  everywhere, 
Who  flees  him  here  perchance  shall  meet  him  there. 
Here,  then,  I  '11  bide  —  let  what  so  will  betide  me, 
Thy  prayers  like  holy  angels,  watch  beside  me. 
So  all  day  long  and  in  thy  pretty  sleeping 
'Till  next  we  meet  the  Saints  have  thee  in  keeping." 

My  daughter  Gillian  animadverteth : 

Gill  :        The  last  part  seems  to  me  much  better. 

I  like  Yolande,  I  hope  he  '11  get  her. 
Myself  :  Patience,  my  dear,  he 's  hardly  met  her. 
Gill  :        I  think  it  would  be  rather  nice 

To  make  him  kiss  her  once  or  twice. 
Myself  :  I  '11  make  him  kiss  her  well,  my  dear, 

When  he  begins  —  but  not  just  here. 

I  '11  later  see  what  I  can  do 

In  this  matter  to  please  you. 
Gill  :        And  then  I  hope,  that  by  and  by 

He  kills  that  frightful  beast,  Sir  Gui. 
Myself  :  Yes,  I  suppose,  we  ought  to  slay  him, 

For  all  his  wickedness  to  pay  him. 
Gill  :        And  Pertinax,  I  think  —  don't  you  ? 

Should  have  a  lady  fair  to  woo. 

To  see  him  in  love  would  be  perfectly  clipping. 

It 's  a  corking  idea,  and  quite  awfully  rip- 
ping   

Myself  :  If  you  use  such  vile  slang,  miss,  I  vow  I  will 

not 

Gill  :        O,  Pax,  father  !     I  'm  sorry ;  I  almost  forgot. 
Myself  :  Very  well,  if  my  warning  you  '11  bear  well 
in  mind, 

A  fair  damsel  for  Pertinax  I  '11  try  to  find. 
Gill  :        Then  make  her,  father,  make  her  quick, 

I  always  knew  you  were  a  brick. 

55 


FYTTE  4 

How  Pertinax  plied  angle  to  his  sport 

And,  catching  him  no  fish,  fish-like  was  caught. 


By  sleepy  stream  where  bending  willows  swayed, 

And,  from  the  sun,  a  greeny  twilight  made, 

Sir  Pertinax,  broad  back  against  a  tree, 

Lolled  at  his  ease  and  yawned  right  lustily. 

In  brawny  fist  he  grasped  a  rod  or  angle, 

With  hook  wherefrom  sad  worm  did,  writhing,  dangle. 

Full  well  he  loved  the  piscatorial  sport, 

Though  he  as  yet  no  single  fish  had  caught. 

Hard  by,  in  easy  reach  upon  the  sward, 

Lay  rusty  bascinet  and  good  broadsword. 

Thus  patiently  the  good  Knight  sat  and  fished, 

Yet  in  his  heart  most  heartily  he  wished 

That  he,  instead  of  fishing,  snug  had  been 

Seated  within  his  goodly  tower  of  Shene.^ 

And  thinking  thus,  he  needs  must  cast  his  eye 

On  rusty  mail,  on  battered  shoon,  and  sigh, 

And  murmur  fitful  curses  and  lament 

That  in  such  base,  unknightly  garb  he  went , — 

A  lord  of  might  whose  broad  shield  bravely  bore 

Of  proud  and  noble  quarterings  a  score. 

"And  't  was  forsooth  for  foolish  ducal  whim 

That  he  must  plod  abroad  in  such  vile  trim  ! " 

Revolving  thus,  his  anger  sudden  woke, 

And,  scowling,  to  the  unseen  fish  he  spoke : 

"A  Duke  !     A  Fool !     A  fool-duke,  by  my  head  ! 
Who,  clad  like  Fool,  like  Fool  will  fain  be  wed, 

56 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

For  ass  and  dolt  and  fool  of  fools  is  he 
Who  '11  live  in  bondage  to  some  talk-full  she. 
Yet,  if  he  '11  wed,  why  i'  the  foul  fiend's  name, 
Must  he  in  motley  seek  the  haughty  dame?" 

But  now,  while  he  did  on  this  problem  dwell, 

Two  unexpected  happenings  befell : 

A  fish  to  nibble  on  the  worm  began, 

And  to  him  through  the  green  a  fair  maid  ran. 

Fast,  fast  amid  the  tangled  brake  she  fled, 

Her  cheeks  all  pale,  her  dark  eyes  wide  with  dread ; 

But  Pertinax  her  beauty  nothing  heeded, 

Since  both  his  eyes  to  watch  his  fish  were  needed ; 

But  started  round  with  sudden,  peevish  snort 

As  in  slim  hands  his  brawny  fist  she  caught ; 

"Ha,  maid !"  he  cried,  "Why  must  thou  come  this 

way 
To  spoil  my  sport  and  fright  mine  fish  away?" 
"O  man  —  O  man,  if  man  thou  art,"  she  gasped, 
"Save  me!"     And  here  his  hand  she  closer  grasped, 
But  even  now,  as  thus  she  breathless  spake, 
Forth  of  the  wood  three  lusty  fellows  brake ; 
Goodly  their  dress  and  bright  the  mail  they  wore, 
While  on  their  breasts  a  falcon-badge  they  bore. 
"Oho  !"  cried  one.     "Yon  dirty  knave  she  's  met !" 
Sir  Pertinax  here  donned  his  bascinet. 
"But  one  poor  rogue  shan't  let  us  !"  t'  other  roared. 
Sir  Pertinax  here  reached  and  drew  his  sword. 
"  Then,"  cried  the  third,  "  let 's  at  him  now  all  three  ! " 
Quoth  Pertinax  :   "Maid,  get  thee  'hind  yon  tree, 
For  now,  methinks,  hast  found  me  better  sport 
Than  if,  forsooth,  yon  plaguy  fish  I  'd  caught." 
So  saying,  up  he  rose  and,  eyes  a-dance 
He  'gainst  the  three  did  joyously  advance, 
With  sword  that  flashed  full  bright,  but  brighter  yet 
The  eyes  beneath  his  rusty  bascinet ; 

57 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

While  aspect  bold  and  carriage  proud  and  high, 
Did  plainly  give  his  mean  array  the  lie. 
Thus,  as  he  gaily  strode  to  meet  the  three, 
In  look  and  gesture  all  proud  knight  was  he ; 
Beholding  which,  the  maid  forgot  her  dread, 
And,  'stead  of  pale,  her  cheek  glowed  softly  red. 

Now  at  the  three  Sir  Pertinax  did  spring, 

And  clashing  steel  on  steel  did  loudly  ring, 

Yet  Pertinax  was  one  and  they  were  three, 

And  once  was,  swearing,  smitten  to  his  knee, 

Whereat  the  maid  hid  face  in  sudden  fear, 

And,  kneeling  so,  fierce  cries  and  shouts  did  hear, 

The  sounds  of  combat  dire,  and  deadly  riot 

Lost  all  at  once  and  hushed  to  sudden  quiet, 

And  glancing  up  she  saw  to  her  amaze 

Three  rogues  who  fleetly  ran  three  several  ways, 

Three  beaten  rogues  who  fled  with  one  accord, 

While  Pertinax,  despondent,  sheathed  his  sword. 

"Par  Dex!"    he  growled,  "'Tis  shame  that  they 

should  run 
Ere  that  to  fight  the  rogues  had  scarce  begun !" 
So  back  he  came,  his  rod  and  line  he  took, 
And  gloomed  to  find  no  worm  upon  his  hook. 
But  now  the  maiden  viewed  him  gentle-eyed ; 
"Brave  soldier,  I  do  thank  thee  well !"   she  sighed, 
"Thou,   like   true  knight,   hast  fought  for  me  to- 

day " 

"And  the  fish,"  sighed  he,  "have  stole  my  worm 

away, 
Which  is  great  pity,  since  my  worms  be  few !" 
And  here  the  Knight's  despond  but  deeper  grew. 
"Yon  rogues,"  he  sighed,  "no  stomach  had  for  fight, 
Yet  scared  the  fish  that  had  a  mind  to  bite !" 
"But  thou  hast  saved  me,  noble  man  !"  said  she. 
"So  must  I  use  another  worm  !"  sighed  he. 

58 


"  JBrabe  soltit'cr,  £  tio  thank  th-rr  faMll!"  shr  stgluti. 

tyagt  58 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  straightway  with  his  fishing  he  proceeded 
While  sat  the  maid  beside  him  all  unheeded ; 
Whereat  she  frowned  and,  scornful,  thus  did  speak 
With  angry  colour  flaming  in  her  cheek  : 
"What  man  art  thou  that  canst  but  fight  and  fish? 
Hast  thou  no  higher  thought,  no  better  wish  ?  " 
"Certes,"  quoth  he,  "I  would  I  had  indeed 
A  goodly  pot  of  foaming  ale  or  mead." 
"O  base,  most  base!"   the  maid  did  scornful  cry, 
And  viewed  him  o'er  with  proud,  disdainful  eye. 
'  That  I  should  owe  my  life  to  man  like  thee ! 
That  one  so  base  could  fight  and  master  three ! 
Who  art  thou,  man,  and  what  ?     Speak  me  thy  name, 
Whither  ye  go  and  why,  and  whence  ye  came, 
Thy  rank,  thy  state,  thy  worth  to  me  impart, 
If  soldier,  serf,  or  outlawed  man  thou  art ; 
And  why  'neath  ragged  habit  thou  dost  wear 
A  chain  of  gold  such  as  but  knights  do  bear, 
Why  thou  canst  front  three  armed  rogues  unafraid, 
Yet  fear  methinks  to  look  upon  a  maid?" 

But  to  these  questions  Pertinax  sat  dumb  — 
That  is,  he  rubbed  his  chin  and  murmured,  "Hum  !" 
Whereat  she,  frowning,  set  determined  chin 
And  thus  again  to  question  did  begin : 

She  :  What  manner  of  man  art  thou  ? 

He  :  A  man. 

She  :  A  soldier  ? 

He  :  Thou  sayest. 

She  :  Art  in  service  ? 

He  :  Truly. 

She  :  Whom  serve  ye  ? 

He  :  A  greater  than  I. 

She  :  Art  thou  wed  ? 

He  :  The  Saints  forfend  ! 

59 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

She  :  Then  art  a  poor  soldier  and  solitary. 

He  t  I  might  be  richer. 

She  :  What  dost  thou  fishing  here  ? 

He  :  I  fish. 

She  :  And  why  didst  fight  three  men  for  me  —  a 
maid  unknown  ? 

He  :  For  lack  of  better  employ. 

She  :  Rude  soldier  —  whence  comest  thou  ? 

He  :  Fair  maiden,  from  beyond. 

She  :  Gross  Knight,  whither  goest  thou  ? 

He  :  Dainty  damosel,  back  again. 

She  :  Dost  lack  aught  ? 

He:  Quiet! 

She:  How,  would'st  have  me  hold  my  peace,  ill 
fellow  ? 

He  :  'T  would  be  a  marvel. 

She:  Wherefore? 

He  :  Thou  'rt  a  woman. 

She:  And  thou  a  man,  ill-tongued,  ill-beseen,  ill- 
mannered,  unlovely,  and  I  like  thee  not ! 

He  :  And  what  is  worse,  the  fish  bite  not. 

Now  here,  and  very  suddenly,  she  fell  a-weeping, 
to  the  Knight's  no  small  discomfiture,  though  she 
wept  in  fashion  wondrous  apt  and  pretty ;  wherefore 
Sir  Pertinax  glanced  at  her  once,  looked  twice  and, 
looking,  scratched  his  ear,  rubbed  his  chin  and  finally 
questioned  her  in  turn  : 

He  :  Distressful  damosel,  wherefore  this  dole  ? 

She  :  For  that  I   am   weary,   woeful   and   solitary. 

And  thou  —  thou  'rt  harsh  of  look,  rough  of 

tongue,  ungentle  of 

He  :  Misfortunate   maiden,   thy   loneliness   is   soon 

amended,     get    thee    to    thy    friends  —  thy 

gossips,  thy 

60 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

She  :  I  have  none.     And  thou  'rt  fierce  and  ungentle 
of  face. 

Here  she  wept  the  more  piteously  and  Sir  Pertinax, 
viewing  her  distress,  forgot  his  hook  and  worm, 
wherefore  a  fish  nibbled  it  slyly,  while  the  Knight 
questioned  her  further : 

He  :  Woeful  virgin,  whence  comest  thou  ? 

She:  From  afar.     And  thou  art  of  features  grim 

and 

He  :  And  whither  would'st  journey  ? 
She  :  No  where  !     And  thou  art 


He  :  Nay,  here  is  thing  impossible,  since  being  here 
thou  art  somewhere  and  that  within  three 
bowshots  of  the  goodly  town  of  Canalise 
wherein  thou  shalt  doubtless  come  by  comfort 
and  succour. 

She  :  Never  !  Never  !  Here  will  I  weep  and  moan 
and  perish.     And  thou 

He  :  And  wherefore  moan  and  perish  ? 

She  :  For  that  I  am  so  minded,  being  a  maid  forlorn 
and  desolate,  a  poor  wanderer  destitute  of  kith, 
of  kin,  of  hope,  of  love,  and  all  that  maketh 
life  sweet.     And  thou  art  sour-faced  and 

He:  Grievous  maid,  is,  among  thy  many  wants,  a 
lack  of  money? 

She:  That  also.  And  thou  art  cold  of  eye,  fierce 
of  mouth,  hooked  of  nose,  flinty  of  heart,  stony 
of  soul,  and  I  a  perishing  maid. 

At  this  Sir  Pertinax  blinked  and  caught  his  breath ; 
thereafter  he  laid  down  his  rod,  whereupon  the  fish 
incontinent  filched  his  worm  all  unnoticed  while  the 
Knight  opened  the  wallet  at  his  girdle  and  took 
thence  certain  monies. 

61 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

He  :  Dolorous  damsel,  behold  six  good,  gold  pieces ! 
Take  them  and  go,  get  thee  to  eat  —  eat  much, 
so  shall  thy  dolour  wax  less,  eat  beef  —  since 
beef  is  a  rare  lightener  of  sorrow,  by  beef  shall 
thy  woes  be  comforted. 

She  :  Alas  !     I  love  not  beef. 

Now  here  Sir  Pertinax  was  dumb  a  space  for 
wonder  at  her  saying,  while  she  stole  a  glance  at 
him  betwixt  slender  fingers. 

He  {after  some  while) :  Maid,  I  tell  thee  beef,  fairly 
cooked  and  aptly  seasoned,  is  of  itself  a  virtue 
whereby  the  body  is  strengthened  and  nour- 
ished, whereby  cometh  content,  and  with 
content  kindliness,  and  with  kindliness  charity, 
and  therewith  all  other  virtues  small  and  eke 
great;  therefore  eat  beef,  maiden,  for  the 
good  of  thy  soul. 

"How?"  said  she,  viewing  him  bright-eyed  'twixt 
her  fingers  again.  "Dost  think  by  beef  one  may 
attain  to  paradise?" 

He:  Peradventure. 

She  :  Then  no  beef,  for  I  would  not  live  a  saint  yet 

awhile. 
He  :  Nathless,  take  thou  these  monies  and  go  buy 

what  thou  wilt. 

So  saying,  Sir  Pertinax  set  the  coins  beside  her 
shapely  foot  and  took  up  his  neglected  rod. 

She  :  And  is  this  gold  truly  mine  ? 
He  :  Verily. 

She  :  Then  I  pray  thee  keep  it  for  me  lest  I  lose  it 
by  the  way  and  so  —  let  us  begone. 

62 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Here  Sir  Pertinax  started. 

"Begone?"  quoth  he.  "Begone  —  in  truth? 
Thou  and  I  in  faith  ?     Go  whither  ?  " 

She  :  Any  whither. 

He  :  Alone  ?     Thou  and  I  ? 

"Nay,  not  alone,"  she  sighed;  "let  us  go  to- 
gether." 

Sir  Pertinax  dropped  his  fishing-rod  and  watched 
it  idly  float  away  down  the  stream : 

"Together,  maiden?"  said  he  at  last. 

"Truly!"  she  sighed.  "For  thou  art  lonely 
even  as  I  am  lonely,  and  thou  art,  methinks,  one  a 
lonely  maid  may  trust." 

"Ha  —  trust!"  quoth  he.  "And  wherefore 
would'st  trust  me,  maiden  ?  " 

She  :  For  two  reasons  —  thou  art  of  age  mature  and 
something  ill-favoured. 

Now,  at  this  Sir  Pertinax  grew  angered,  grew 
thoughtful,  grew  sad  and,  beholding  his  image 
mirrored  in  the  waters,  sighed  for  his  grim,  unlovely 
look  and,  in  his  heart,  cursed  his  vile  garb  anew.  At 
last  he  spoke : 

He  :  Truly  thou  may'st  trust  me,  maiden. 
She  :  And  wherefore  sighest  thou,  sad  soldier  ? 
He  :  Verily  for  thy  two  reasons.     Though,  for  mine 
age,  I  am  not  forty  turned. 

Saying  which,  he  sighed  again,  and  stared  gloomily 
into  the  murmurous  waters.  But  presently,  chanc- 
ing to  look  aside,  he  beheld  a  head  low  down  amid 
the  underwood,  a  head  huge  and  hairy  with  small, 
fierce  eyes  that  watched  him  right  bodefully,  and  a 
great  mouth  that  grinned  evilly;    and  now  as  he 

63 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

stared,  amazed  by  this  monstrous  head,  it  nodded 
grimly,  speaking  thus : 

"Lob,  Lobkyn  he 
Commandeth  thee 
To  let  her  be 
And  set  her  free, 

Thou  scurvy,  cutpurse,  outlaw  knave, 
Lest  hanged  thou  be 
Upon  a  tree 
For  roguery 
And  villainy, 

Thou  knavish,  misbegotten  slave ; 
For  proud  is  she 
Of  high  degree, 
As  unto  ye 
Explicitly  — —  " 


«- 


Ha!"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  rising  and  drawing 
sword.  "Now,  be  thou  imp  of  Satan,  fiend  accursed, 
or  goblin  fell,  come  forth,  and  I  with  steel  will  try 
thee,  Thing!" 

Out  from  the  leaves  forthwith  crawled  a  dwarf 
bowed  of  leg,  mighty  of  shoulder,  humped  of  back, 
and  with  arms  very  long  and  thick  and  hairy.  In 
one  great  fist  he  grasped  a  ponderous  club  shod  with 
iron  spikes,  and  now,  resting  his  hands  on  this  and 
his  chin  on  his  hands,  he  scowled  at  the  Knight,  yet 
grinned  also. 

"Ho!"  he  cried,  rolling  big  head  in  threatening 
fashion : 

"Vile  dog,  thy  rogue's  sconce  cracked  shall  be, 
Thy  base-born  bones  be-thwacked  shall  be. 
I  '11  deal  thee  many  a  dour  ding 
For  that  thou  darest  name  me  —  Thing  ! " 

64 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 


a  ■ 


;Now,  as  I  live!"  said  Sir  Pertinax,  scowling 
also.  "Here  will  I,  and  with  great  joyance,  cleave 
me  thine  impish  mazzard  and  split  thee  to  thy  beastly 
chine.     And  for  thy  ill  rhyming  : 

"I  with  this  goodly  steel  will  halve  thee 
And  into  clammy  goblets  carve  thee. 
So  stand,  Thing,  to  thy  club  betake  thee, 
And  soon,  Thing,  I  will  no-thing  make  thee." 

But,  as  they  closed  on  each  other  with  eager  and 
deadly  intent,  the  maid  stepped  lightly  betwixt. 

"Stay,  soldier  —  hold  !"  she  commanded.  "Here 
is  none  but  Lobkyn  Lollo  —  poor,  brave  Lob,  nor 
will  I  suffer  him  to  harm  thee." 

"How,  maiden  ?  "  snorted  the  good  Knight  fiercely. 
"Harm  me,  say'st  thou  —  yon  puny  Thing?" 

'Truly,  soldier!"  said  she,  roguish-eyed.  "For 
though  thou  art  very  ungentle,  harsh  of  tongue, 
of  visage  grim  and  manners  rude  —  I  would  not 
have  Lob  harm  thee  —  yet ! " 

Now  hereupon  our  bold  Sir  Pertinax 

With  indignation  red  of  face  did  wax. 

The  needful  word  his  tongue  was  vainly  seeking, 

Since  what  he  felt  was  quite  beyond  the  speaking. 

Though  quick  his  hand  to  ward  or  give  a  blow, 

His  tongue  all  times  unready  was  and  slow, 

Therefore  he  speechless  looked  upon  the  maid, 

Who  viewed  him  'neath  her  lashes'  dusky  shade, 

Whence  Eros  launched  a  sudden  beamy  dart 

That  'spite  chain-mail  did  reach  and  pierce  his  heart. 

And  in  that  instant  Pertinax  grew  wise, 

And  trembled  'neath  this  forest-maiden's  eyes ; 

And  trembling,  knew  full  well,  seek  where  he  might, 

No  eyes  might  hold  for  him  such  magic  light, 

65 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

No  lips  might  hold  for  him  such  sweet  allure, 

No  other  hand  might  his  distresses  cure, 

No  other  voice  might  so  console  and  cheer, 

No  foot,  light-treading,  be  so  sweet  to  hear 

As  the  eyes,  lips,  hand,  voice,  foot  of  her  who  stood 

Before  him  now,  cheek  flushing  'neath  her  hood. 

All  this  Sir  Pertinax  had  in  his  thought, 

And,  wishing  much  to  say  to  her,  said  nought, 

By  reason  that  his  tongue  was  something  slow, 

And  of  smooth  phrases  he  did  little  know. 

But  yet  't  is  likely,  though  he  nothing  said, 

She,  maid-like,  what  he  spake  not,  guessed  or  read 

In  his  flushed  brow,  his  sudden-gentle  eyes, 

Since  in  such  things  all  maids  are  wondrous  wise. 

Now  suddenly  the  brawny  Dwarf  did  cry  : 
"Beware,  my  old  great-grand-dam  creepeth  nigh !" 
Thus  speaking,  'mid  the  bushes  pointed  he, 
Where  crook'd  old  woman  crouched  beneath  a  tree 
Whence,  bowed  upon    a    staff,  she   towards  them 

came, 
An  ancient,  wrinkled,  ragged,  hag-like  dame 
With  long,  sharp  nose  that  downward  curved  as 

though 
It  fain  would,  beak-like,  peck  sharp  chin  below. 
Mutt'ring  she  came  and  mowing  she  drew  near, 
And  straightway  seized  the  Dwarf  by  hairy  ear : 
Fast  by  the  ear  this  ancient  dame  did  tweak  him, 
And  cuffed  his  head  and,  cuffing,  thus  did  speak  him  : 

"  Ha,  dolt !     Bad  elf,  and  wilt  thou  slay,  indeed, 
This  goodly  man  did  aid  me  in  my  need  ? 
For  this  was  one  that  fought  within  the  gate 
And  from  Black  Lewin  saved  thy  grannam's  pate ! 
Down,  down,  fool-lad,  upon  thy  knees,  I  say, 
And  full  forgiveness  of  this  soldier  pray." 

66 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

But  Sir  Pertinax,  perceiving  how  the  old  dame 
did  thus  tweak  and  wring  at  the  Dwarf's  great, 
hairy  ear  even  until  his  eyes  watered,  interceded, 
saying : 

"Good,  ancient  soul,  humble  not  the  sturdy,  un- 
lovely, mis-shapen,  rascally  imp  for  such  small 
matter." 

"Nay,  but,"  croaked  the  old  woman,  tightening 
claw-like  fingers,  "kind  master,  he  would  doubt- 
less have  slain  thee."  At  this,  Sir  Pertinax  scowled, 
and  would  have  sworn  great  oath  but,  meeting  the 
maid's  bright  eyes,  checked  himself,  though  with 
much  ado : 

"Art  so  sure,"  he  questioned,  "so  sure  man  of 
my  inches  may  be  slain  by  thing  so  small?" 

At  this  the  maid  laughed,  and  the  old  woman, 
sighing,  loosed  the  ear  she  clutched  : 

"Shew  thy  strength,  Lob,"  she  commanded  and, 
drawing  the  maiden  out  of  ear-shot,  sat  down  beside 
her  on  the  sward  and  fell  to  eager,  whispered  talk. 
Meantime  the  Dwarf,  having  cherished  his  ear, 
sulkily  though  tenderly,  seized  hold  upon  his  great 
club  with  both  hairy  hands  : 

And  whirling  it  aloft,  with  sudden  might 
A  fair,  young  tree  in  sunder  he  did  smite, 
That  'neath  the  blow  it  swayed  and  crashing  fell. 
Quoth  Pertinax  :  "Good  Thing,  't  is  very  well. 
Par  Dex,  and  by  the  Holy  Rood,"  quoth  he, 
"'T  is  just  as  well  that  I  was  not  yon  tree!" 
And  whirling  his  long  sword  as  thus  he  spoke, 
Shore  through  another  at  a  single  stroke. 
"Here  's  tree  for  tree,  stout  manling !"   he  did  say. 
"What  other  trick  canst  show  to  me,  I  pray  ?" 
Then  Lobkyn  stooped  the  broken  stump  to  seize, 
Bowed  brawny  back  and  with  a  wondrous  ease 

67 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Up  by  the  roots  the  rugged  bole  he  tore 

And  tossed  it  far  as  it  had  been  a  straw. 

Sad  grew  our  knight  this  mighty  feat  perceiving, 

Since  well  he  knew  't  was  past  his  own  achieving. 

But  anon  he  smiled  and  clapped  the  mighty  Dwarf 
on  shoulder,  saying : 

"Greeting  to  thee,  lusty  Lob,  for  by  Our  Holy 
Lady  of  Shene  Chapel  within  the  Wood,  ne'er  saw 
I  thine  equal,  since  thou,  being  man  so  small,  may 
do  what  man  o'  my  goodly  inches  may  nowise  per- 
form. Thou  should'st  make  a  right  doughty  man-at- 
arms  !" 

Hereupon  the  Dwarf  cut  a  caper  but  sighed  there- 
after: quoth  he: 

"Aha,  good  master,  and  Oho, 
As  man-at-arms  fain  would  I  go ; 
Aye,  verily,  I  would  be  so, 
But  that  my  grannam  sayeth  'No  !' 

"And,  sir,  my  grand-dam  I  obey 
Since  she  's  a  potent  witch,  they  say ; 
Can  cast  ye  spells  by  night  or  day 
And  charmeth  warts  and  such  away. 

"  Love  philtres  too  she  can  supply 
For  fools  that  fond  and  foolish  sigh, 
That  wert  thou  foul  as  hog  in  sty 
Fair  women  must  unto  thee  fly. 

"  Then  deadly  potions  she  can  make, 
Will  turn  a  man  to  wriggling  snake, 
Or  slimy  worm,  or  duck,  or  drake, 
Or  loathly  frog  that  croaks  in  lake. 

68 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"And  she  can  curse  beyond  compare, 
Can  curse  ye  here,  or  curse  ye  there ; 
She  '11  curse  ye  clad  or  curse  ye  bare, 
In  fine,  can  curse  ye  anywhere. 

"And  she  can  summon,  so  't  is  said, 
From  fire  and  water,  spirits  dread, 
Strong  charms  she  hath  can  wake  the  dead 
And  set  the  living  in  their  stead. 

"So  thus  it  is,  whate'er  she  say, 
My  grand-dam,  master,  I  obey." 

"Now  by  my  head,"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  "  an  thy 
grand-dam  hath  a  potency  in  spells  and  such  black 
arts  —  the  which  is  an  ill  thing  —  thou  hast  a  power- 
ful gift  of  versification  the  which,  methinks,  is  worse. 
How  cometh  this  distemper  o'  the  tongue,  Lobkyn?" 

"O  master,"  spake  the  sighful  Dwarf  forlorn, 

"Like  many  such  diseases,  't  is  inborn. 

For  even  as  a  baby,  I 

Did  pule  in  rhyme  and  versify ; 

And  the  stronger  that  I  grew, 

My  rhyming  habit  strengthened  too, 

Until  my  sad  sire  in  despair 

Put  me  beneath  the  Church's  care. 

The  holy  fathers,  't  is  confessed, 

With  belt  and  sandal  did  their  best, 

But,  though  they  often  whipped  me  sore, 

I,  weeping,  did  but  rhyme  the  more, 

Till,  finding  all  their  efforts  vain, 

They  sadly  sent  me  home  again." 

"A  parlous  case,  methinks!"  said  Sir  Pertinax, 
staring  at  the  Dwarf's  rueful  visage.  "Learned  ye 
aught  of  the  holy  fathers  ?" 

69 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Aye,  sir,  they  taught  me  truth  to  tell, 
To  cipher  and  to  read  right  well ; 
They  taught  me  Latin,  sir,  and  Greek, 
Though  even  then  in  rhyme  I  'd  speak." 

"And  thou  canst  read  and  write!"  exclaimed  Sir 
Pertinax.     "So  can  not  I !" 

Cried  Lob  : 
"What  matter  that?     Heaven  save  the  mark, 
Far  better  be  a  soldier  than  a  clerk, 
Far  rather  had  I  be  a  fighter 
Than  learned  reader  or  a  writer, 
Since  they  who  'd  read  must  mope  in  schools, 
And  they  that  write  be  mostly  fools. 
So  'stead  of  pen  give  me  a  sword, 
And  set  me  where  the  battle 's  toward, 
Where  blood  — " 

But  the  ancient  dame  who  had  risen  and  ap- 
proached silently,  now  very  suddenly  took  Lobkyn 
by  the  ear  again. 

"Talk  not  of  blood  and  battles,  naughty  one!" 
she  cried.  "Think  not  to  leave  thy  old  grannam 
lone  and  lorn  and  helpless  —  nor  this  our  fair  maid. 
Shame  on  thee,  Lob,  O  shame!"  saying  the  which 
she  cuffed  him  again  and  soundly. 

"Master,"  he  sighed,  "thou  seest  I  may  not  go, 
Since  that  my  grand-dam  will  not  have  it  so." 

"Good  mother,  wise  mother,"  said  the  maid, 
viewing  Sir  Pertinax  smilingly  askance,  "why  doth 
poor  soldier  go  bedight  in  fine  linen  'neath  rusty 
hauberk?  Why  doth  poor  soldier  wear  knightly 
chain  about  his  neck  and  swear  by  knightly  oath? 
Good  mother,  wise  mother,  rede  me  this." 

70 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

The  old  woman  viewed  Pertinax  with  her  bright, 
quick  eyes,  but,  ere  she  could  answer,  he  sheathed 
sword,  drew  ragged  mantle  about  him,  and  made  to 
go,  but,  turning  to  the  maid,  bent  steel-clad  head. 

"Most  fair  damosel,"  said  he  gently,  "evening 
cometh  on,  and  now,  since  thou  art  no  longer  forlorn, 
I  will  away." 

"Nay,  first,  I  pray  thee,  what  is  thy  name?" 

"Pertinax,  madam." 

"  So  then  doth  Melissa  thank  Pertinax.  And  now 
—  out  alas  !  Will  Pertinax  leave  Melissa,  having 
but  found  her?" 

Sir  Pertinax  looked  up,  looked  down,  fidgeted  with 
his  cloak,  and  knew  not  how  to  answer ;  wherefore 
she  sighed  again,  though  with  eyes  full  merry  'neath 
drooping  lashes  and  reached  out  to  him  her  slender 
hand.  "Aye  me,  and  shall  we  meet  no  more,  poor 
soldier?"  she  questioned  softly. 

"This  I  know  not,"  he  answered. 

"For  thy  brave  rescue  I  do  give  thee  my  humble 
thanks,  poor  soldier." 

"Thy  rescue,  child?"  cried  the  old  woman. 
"Alack  and  wert  thou  seen?  Thy  rescue,  say'st 
thou?" 

"Indeed,  good  mother,  from  Sir  Agramore's  rough 
foresters.  But  for  thee,  thou  needy  soldier,  my 
gratitude  is  thine  henceforth.  Had  I  aught  else  to 
give  thee,  that  were  thine  also.  Is  there  aught  I 
may  ?     Speak." 

Now  Sir  Pertinax  could  not  but  heed  all  the  rich, 
warm  beauty  of  her  —  these  eyes  so  sombrely  sweet, 
her  delicate  nose,  the  temptation  of  her  vivid  lips  — 
and  so  spake  hot  with  impulse : 

"Aye,    truly,    sweet   maid,    truly    I    would   have 

of  thee  a "     Her  eyes  grew  bright  with  laughter, 

a    dimple    played    wanton    in    her   cheek,    and    Sir 

71 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Pertinax  was  all  suddenly  abashed,  faint-hearted 
and  unsure ;  thus,  looking  down,  he  chanced  to  espy 
a  strange  jewel  that  hung  tremulous  upon  her  mov- 
ing bosom  :  a  crowned  heart  within  a  heart  of  crystal. 

"Well,  thou  staid  and  sorry  soldier,  what  would'st 
have  of  me  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"Verily,"  he  muttered,  "I  would  have  of  thee 
yon  trinket  from  thy  bosom."  Now  at  his  words 
she  started,  caught  her  breath  and  stared  at  him 
wide-eyed ;  but,  seeing  his  abashment,  laughed  and 
loosed  off  the  jewel  with  quick,  small  fingers. 

"Be  it  so!"  said  she.  But  hereupon  the  old 
woman  reached  out  sudden  hand. 

"Child!"  she  croaked,  "Art  mad?  Mind  ye 
not  the  prophecy  ?  Beware  the  prophecy  —  be- 
ware! 

'He  that  taketh  Crystal  Heart, 
Taketh  all  and  every  part ! ' 

Beware,  I  say,  Oh,  beware  ! " 

"Nay,  good  mother,  have  I  not  promised?  And 
for  this  crystal  it  hath  brought  me  nought  but  un- 
ease hitherto.  Take  it,  soldier,  and  for  the  sake 
of  this  poor  maid  that  giveth,  break  it  not,  dis- 
honour it  not,  and  give  it  to  none  but  can  define  for 
thee  the  secret  thereof  —  and  so,  poor,  brave,  fearful 
soldier  —  fare  thee  well !" 

Saying  which  this  fair  maiden  turned,  and  clasp- 
ing the  Witch's  bony  arm  about  her  slender  loveli- 
ness, passed  away  into  the  denser  wood  with  Lobkyn 
Lollo  marching  grimly  behind,  his  mighty  club  across 
his  shoulder. 

Long  stood  Sir  Pertinax,  staring  down  at  the 
strange  jewel  in  his  hand  yet  seeing  it  not,  for,  lost 
in  his  dreams,  he  beheld  again  two  eyes,  dusky- 
lashed  and  softly  bright,  a  slender  hand,  a  shapely 

72 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

foot,  while  in  his  ears  was  again  the  soft  murmur  of 
a  maid's  voice,  a  trill  of  girlish  laughter.  So  lost 
in  meditation  was  he  that  becoming  aware  of  a 
shadow  athwart  the  level  sunset-glory,  he  started, 
glanced  up  and  into  the  face  of  a  horseman  who  had 
ridden  up  unheard  upon  the  velvet  ling;  and  this 
man  was  tall  and  armed  at  points  like  a  knight ; 
the  vizor  of  his  plumed  casque  was  lifted,  and  Sir 
Pertinax  saw  a  ruddy  face,  keen-eyed,  hawk-nosed, 
thin-lipped. 

:' Fellow,"  questioned  the  haughty  knight,  "what 
hold  ye  there?" 

"Fellow,"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  haughty  and  gruff 
also,  "'t  is  no  matter  to  thee!"  And  speaking,  he 
buttoned  the  jewel  into  the  wallet  at  his  belt. 

"Fool !"  exclaimed  the  Knight,  staring  in  amaze, 
"wilt  dare  name  me  'fellow'?  Tell  me,  didst  see 
three  foresters  hereabout?" 

"Poltroon,  I  did." 

"Knave,  wilt  defy  me?" 

"Rogue,  I  do!"  ' 

"Slave,  what  did  these  foresters?3 

"Villain,  they  ran  away!" 

"Ha,  varlet !  and  wherefore?" 

"Caitiff,  I  drubbed  them  shrewdly.' 

"  Dared  ye  withstand  them,  dog  ?  " 

^Minion,  I  did." 

"Saw  ye  not  the  badge  they  bore?"  demanded 
the  fierce  stranger-knight. 

'T  was  the  like  of  that  upon  thy  shield  ! "  nodded 
Sir  Pertinax  grimly. 

'Know  ye  who  and  what  I  am,  dunghill  rogue?" 

"No,  dog's-breakfast  —  nor  care!"  growled  Sir 
Pertinax,  whereat  the  stranger-knight  grew  sudden 
red  and  clenched  mailed  fist. 

"Know  then,  thou  kennel-scourer,  that  I  am  Sir 

73 


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»> 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Agramore  of  Biename,  Lord  of  Swanscote  and 
Hoccom,  Lord  Seneschal  of  Tissingors  and  the 
March." 

"Ha!"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  scowling.  "So  do  I 
know  thee  for  a  very  rogue  ingrain  and  villain 
manifest." 

"  How  ! "  roared  Sir  Agramore.  "  This  to  my  face, 
thou  vile  creeper  of  ditches,  thou  unsavoury  tavern- 
haunter  —  this  in  my  teeth  ! " 

"Heartily,  heartily  !"  nodded  Sir  Pertinax.  "And 
may  it  choke  thee  for  the  knavish  carcass  thou  art." 

At  this,  and  very  suddenly,  the  Knight  loosed 
mace  from  saddle-bow,  and  therewith  smote  Sir 
Pertinax  on  rusty  bascinet,  and  tumbled  him  back- 
ward among  the  bracken.  Which  done,  Sir  Agra- 
more laughed  full  loud  and,  spurring  his  charger, 
galloped  furiously  away.  And  after  some  while 
Sir  Pertinax  arose,  albeit  unsteadily,  but  finding  his 
legs  weak,  sat  him  down  again ;  thereafter  with 
fumbling  hands  he  did  off  dinted  bascinet  and  viewed 
it  thoughtfully,  felt  his  head  tenderly  and,  crawling 
to  the  stream,  bathed  it  solicitously;  then,  being 
greatly  heartened,  he  arose  and  drawing  sword,  set 
it  upright  in  the  ling  and,  kneeling,  clasped  his  hands 
and  spake  as  follows  : 

"Here  and  now,  upon  my  good  cross-hilt  I  swear 
I  will  with  joy  and  zeal  unremitting,  seek  me  out 
one  Sir  Agramore  of  Biename.  Then  will  I  inconti- 
nent with  any,  all,  or  whatsoever  weapon  he  chooseth 
fall  upon  him  and,  for  this  felon  stroke,  for  his  un- 
gentle dealing  with  the  maid,  I  will  forthwith  gore, 
rend,  tear,  pierce,  batter,  bruise  and  otherwise  use 
the  body  of  the  said  Sir  Agramore  until,  growing 
aweary  of  its  vile  tenement,  his  viler  soul  shall  flee 
hence  to  consume  evermore  with  such  unholy  knaves 
as  he.     And  this  is  the  oath  of  me,  Sir  Pertinax, 

74 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Knight  of  Shene,  Lord  of  Westover,  Framling, 
Bracton  and  Deepdene,  to  the  which  oath  may  the 
Saints  bend  gracious  ear,  in  especial  Our  Holy  Lady 
of  Shene  Chapel  within  the  Wood  —  Amen  ! " 

Having  registered  the  which  most  solemn  oath, 
Sir  Pertinax  arose,  sheathed  his  sword,  and  strode 
blithely  towards  the  fair  and  prosperous  town  of 
Canalise.  But,  being  come  within  the  gate,  he 
was  aware  of  much  riot  and  confusion  in  the  square 
and  streets  beyond,  and  hasting  forward,  beheld  a 
wild  concourse,  a  pushing,  jostling  throng  of  people 
making  great  clamour  and  outcry,  above  which 
hubbub  ever  and  anon  rose  such  shouts,  as  :  "Mur- 
derer !     Thief  !     Away  with  him  !     Death  to  him  !" 

By  dint  of  sharp  elbow  and  brawny  shoulder  our 
good  knight  forced  himself  a  way  until  —  surrounded 
by  men-at-arms,  his  limbs  fast  bound,  his  motley 
torn  and  bloody,  his  battered  fool's-cap  all  awry  — 
he  beheld  Duke  Jocelyn  haled  and  dragged  along 
by  fierce  hands.  For  a  moment  Sir  Pertinax  stood 
dumb  with  horror  and  amaze,  then,  roaring,  clapped 
hand  to  sword.  Now,  hearing  this  fierce  and  well- 
known  battle  shout,  Duke  Jocelyn  turned  and,  be- 
holding the  Knight,  shook  bloody  head  in  warning 
and  slowly  closed  one  bright,  blue  eye ;  and  so,  while 
Sir  Pertinax  stood  rigid  and  dumb,  was  dragged  away 
and  lost  in  the  fierce,  jostling  throng. 

My  daughter  gillian  propoundeth  : 

Gill  :        Father,  when  you  began  this  Geste,  I  thought 
It  was  a  poem  of  a  sort. 

Myself  :  A  sort,  Miss  Pert !     A  sort,  indeed  ? 

Gill  :        Of  course  —  the  sort  folks  love  to  read. 
But  in  the  last  part  we  have  heard 
Of  poetry  there  's  scarce  a  word. 

75 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Myself  :  My  dear,  if  you  the  early  Geste-books  read, 

You  '11  find  that,  oft  as  not,  indeed, 

The   wearied   Gestours,    when   by   rhyming 
stumped, 

Into  plain  prose  quite  often  jumped. 
Gill  :        But,  father,  dear,  the  last  part  seems  to  me 

All  prose  —  as  prosy  as  can  be 

Myself  :  Ha,  prosy,  miss  !     How,  do  you  then  suggest 

Our  Geste  for  you  lacks  interest  ? 
Gill  :        Not  for  a  moment,  father,  though 

Sir  Pertinax  was  much  too  slow. 

When  fair  Melissa  "laughing  stood," 

He    should    have    kissed  —  you    know    he 
should  — 

Because,  of  course,  she  wished  him  to. 

Hum  !     Girl,  I  wonder  if  that 's  true  ? 

0  father,  yes  !     Of  course  I  'm  right, 
And  you  're  as  slow  as  your  slow  knight. 
Were  you  as  slow  when  you  were  young  ? 
Hush,  madam  !     Hold  that  saucy  tongue. 
You  may  be  sure,  in  my  young  days, 

1  was  most  dutiful  always. 
Grown  up,  I  was,  it  seems  to  me, 
No  slower  than  I  ought  to  be. 
And  now,  miss,  since  you  pine  for  verse, 
Rhyme  with  my  prose  I  '11  intersperse ; 
And,  like  a  doting  father,  I 
To  hold  your  interest  will  try. 


Myself  ; 
Gill: 


Myself 


76 


FYTTE  5 

Which  of  Duke  Joc'lyn's  woeful  plight  doth  tell, 
And  all  that  chanced  him  pent  in  dungeon  cell. 


In  gloomy  dungeon,  scant  of  air  and  light, 
Duke  Joc'lyn  lay  in  sad  and  woeful  plight ; 
His  hands  and  feet  with  massy  fetters  bound, 
That    clashed,    whene'er    he    moved,    with    dismal 

sound ; 
His  back  against  the  clammy  wall  did  rest, 
His  heavy  head  was  bowed  upon  his  breast, 
But,  'neath  drawn  brows,  he  watched  with  wary  eye 
Three  ragged  wights  who,  shackled,  lay  hard  by, 
Three  brawny  rogues  who,  scowling,  fiercely  eyed 

him, 
And  with  lewd  gibes  and  mocking  gestures  plied  him. 
But  Joc'lyn,  huddled  thus  against  the  wall, 
Seemed  verily  to  heed  them  none  at  all, 
Wherefore  a  red-haired  rogue  who  thought  he  slept 
With  full  intent  upon  him  furtive  crept. 
But,  ere  he  knew,  right  suddenly  he  felt 
Duke  Joc'lyn's  battered  shoe  beneath  his  belt ; 
And  falling  back  with  sudden  strangled  cry, 
Flat  on  his  back  awhile  did  breathless  lie, 
Whereat  to  rage  his  comrades  did  begin, 
And  clashed  their  fetters  with  such  doleful  din 
That  from  a  corner  dim  a  fourth  man  sprang, 
And  laughed  and  laughed,  until  their  prison  rang. 
"Well   kicked,    Sir   Fool!     Forsooth,    well    done!" 

laughed  he, 
"Ne'er  saw  I,  Fool,  a  fool  the  like  o'  thee  !" 

77 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Now  beholding  this  tall  fellow,  Jocelyn  knew  him 
for  that  same  forest-rogue  had  wrestled  with  him 
in  the  green,  and  sung  for  his  life  the  "Song  of 
Roguery."  Wherefore  he  smiled  on  the  fellow  and 
the  fellow  on  him  : 

Quoth  Jocelyn  :      I  grieve  to  see 

A  man  like  thee 
In  such  a  woeful  plight  — 

Quoth  the  Rogue  :  A  Fool  in  fetters, 

Like  his  betters, 
Is  yet  a  rarer  sight. 

"Ha  i'  the  clout,  good  fellow,  for  Folly  in  fetters 
is  Folly  in  need,  and  Folly  in  need  is  Folly  indeed ! 
But,  leaving  folly  awhile,  who  art  thou  and  what  thy 

. 

Saith  the  Rogue  :  Robin  I  'm  named,  Sir  Fool, 

Rob  by  the  few, 
Which  few  are  right,  methinks,  for 
so  I  do. 

"  Then,  Rob,  if  dost  rob  thou  'rt  a  robber,  and  being 
robber  thou  'rt  perchance  in  bonds  for  robbing, 
Robin?" 

"Aye,  Fool,  I,  Rob,  do  rob  and  have  robbed  greater 
robbers  that  I  might  by  robbery  live  to  rob  like 
robbers  again,  as  thou,  by  thy  foolish  folly,  fooleries 
make,  befooling  fools  lesser  than  thou,  that  thou, 
Fool,  by  such  fool-like  fooleries  may  live  to  fool  like 
fools  again  !" 

Quoth  Jocelyn  :  Thou  robber  Rob, 

Bv  Hob  and  Gob, 
Though  robber-rogue,  I  swear 

78 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 


That  't  is  great  pity 

Rogue  so  pretty 

Must  dance  upon  thin  air. 

Quoth  Robin  :      Since  I  must  die 

On  gallows  high 
And  wriggle  in  a  noose, 
I  '11  none  repine 
Nor  weep  nor  whine, 
For  where  would  be  the  use? 
Yet  sad  am  I 
That  I  must  die 
With  rogues  so  base  and  small, 
Sly  coney-catchers, 
Poor  girdle-snatchers, 
That  do  in  kennel  crawl. 

"And  yet,"  said  Jocelyn,  "thou  thyself  art  rogue 
and  thief  confessed.  How  then  art  better  than  these 
thy  fellows?" 

"By  degree,  Sir  Fool.  Even  as  thou  'rt  Fool  o' 
folly  uncommon,  so  am  I  no  ordinary  rogue,  being 
rogue  o'  rare  parts  with  power  of  rogues  i'  the  wild 
wood,  while  these  be  but  puny  rogues  of  no  parts 
soever." 

"No  rogues  are  we!"  the  three  did  loudly  cry, 

"But  sad,  poor  souls,  that  perishing  do  lie !" 

"In  me,"  quoth  one,  "behold  a  man  of  worth, 

By  trade  a  dyer  and  yclepen  Gurth ; 

In  all  this  world  no  man,  howe'er  he  try, 

Could  live  a  life  so  innocent  as  I !" 

The  second  spake :   "I  am  the  ploughman  Rick, 

That  ne'er  harmed  man  or  woman,  maid  or  chick ! 

But  here  in  direful  dungeon  doomed  be  I, 

Yet  cannot  tell  the  wherefore  nor  the  why." 

79 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Then  spake  Red-head,  albeit  gasping  still : 

"An  honest  tanner  I,  my  name  is  Will ; 

'T  was  me  thou  kickedst,  Fool,  in  such  ill  manner, 

Of  crimes  unjust  accused  —  and  I,  a  tanner  !" 

Here  Joc'lyn  smiled.     "Most  saintly  rogues,"  said 

he; 
"The  Saints,  methinks,  were  rogues  compared  with 

ye, 
And  one  must  needs  in  prison  come  who  'd  find 
The  noblest,  worthiest,  best  of  all  mankind. 
Poor,  ill-used  knaves,  to  lie  in  dungeon  pent, 
Rogues  sin-less  quite,  and  eke  so  innocent, 
What  though  your  looks  another  tale  do  tell, 
Since  I  'm  your  fellow,  fellows  let  us  dwell, 
For  if  ye  're  rogues  that  thus  in  bonds  do  lie, 
So  I'm  a  rogue  since  here  in  bonds  am  I, 
Thus  I,  a  rogue,  do  hail  ye  each  a  brother, 
Like  brethren,  then,  we  '11  comfort  one  another." 

Thus  spake  Jocelyn,  whereafter  these  "saintly 
rogues"  all  three  grew  mightily  peevish  and,  withal, 
gloomy,  while  Robin  laughed  and  laughed  at  them, 
nodding  head  and  wagging  finger. 

"Prithee,  good  Motley,"  he  questioned,  "what 
should  bring  so  rare  a  Fool  to  lie  in  dungeon  fettered 
and  gyved  along  of  innocent  rogues  and  roguish 
robber  ? " 

Whereto  Duke  Jocelyn  answered  on  this  wise : 

"Hast  heard,  belike,  of  Gui  the  Red  ?"  '' 

(Here  went  there  up  a  howl) 

"A  mighty  lord  of  whom  't  is  said, 

That  few  do  love  and  many  dread." 

(Here  went  there  up  a  growl) 

"This  potent  lord  I  chanced  to  view, 
Behaving  as  no  lord  should  do, 

80 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  thereupon,  this  lord  I  threw 
In  pretty,  plashing  pool ! 

"  Whereon  this  dreadful  lord  did  get 
Exceeding, wroth  and  very  wet; 
Wherefore  in  dungeon  here  I  'm  set, 
For  fierce  and  fro  ward  Fool." 

Here  went  there  up  a  shout  of  glee. 
Cried  Robin  :  "O  sweet  Fool, 
I  would  I  had  been  there  to  see 
This  haughty  lord  of  high  degree 
In  pretty,  plashing  pool." 

Here  shout  of  glee  became  a  roar, 

That  made  the  dungeon  ring ; 

They  laughed,  they  rolled  upon  the  floor, 

Till  suddenly  the  massy  door 

On  creaking  hinge  did  swing ; 

And  to  them  the  head  jailer  now  appeared, 

A  sombre  man  who  sighed  through  tangled  beard. 

"How  now,  rogue-lads,"  said  he,  "grow  ye  merry 
in  sooth  by  reason  o'  this  Fool !  Aye  me,  all  men  do 
grow  merry  save  only  I,  Ranulph,  Chief  Torturer, 
Ranulph  o'  the  Keys,  o'  the  Gibbet,  o'  the  City  Axe 
—  poor  Ranulph  the  Headsman.  Good  lack  !  I  've 
cut  off  the  head  o'  many  a  man  merrier  than  I  — 
aye,  that  have  I,  and  more  's  the  pity !  And  now, 
ye  that  are  to  die  so  soon  can  wax  joyous  along  o' 
this  motley  Fool !  Why,  't  is  a  manifest  good  Fool, 
and  rare  singer  o'  songs,  't  is  said,  though  malapert, 
with  no  respect  for  his  betters  and  over-quick  at 
dagger-play.  So  't  is  a  Fool  must  die  and  sing  no 
more,  and  there  's  the  pity  on  't  for  I  do  love  a  song, 
I  —  being  a  companionable  soul  and  jovial  withal, 
aye,  a  very  bawcock  of  a  boy,  I.     To-morrow  Red 

81 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Gui  doth  hale  ye  to  his  Castle  o'  the  Rock,  there 
to  die  all  five  for  his  good  pleasure,  as  is  very  fitting 
and  proper,  so  be  merry  whiles  ye  may.  Meantime, 
behold  here  another  rogue,  a  youngling  imp.  So  is 
five  become  six,  and  six  may  laugh  louder  than  five, 
methinks,  so  laugh  your  best." 

Then  Ranulph  o'  the  Keys  sighed,  closed  the  great 
door  and  went  his  way,  leaving  the  new  captive 
to  their  mercies.  Fair  he  was  and  slender,  and  of 
a  timid  seeming,  for  now  he  crouched  against  the 
wall,  his  face  hid  'neath  the  hood  of  ragged  mantle ; 
wherefore  the  "saintly"  three  incontinent  scowled 
upon  him,  roared  at  him  and  made  a  horrid  clashing 
with  their  fetters : 

"Ha,  blood  and  bones!"  cried  Rick  the  Plough- 
man. "What  murderous  babe  art  thou  to  go  un- 
shackled in  presence  o'  thy  betters  ?  " 

"Aye,  forsooth,"  growled  Will  the  Tanner, 
"who'rt  thou  to  come  hither  distressing  the  last 
hours  o'  we  poor,  perishing  mortals  ?  Discourse, 
lest  I  bite  the  heart  o'  thee !" 

"Pronounce,  imp!"  roared  Gurth  the  Dyer, 
"lest  I  tear  thy  liver!" 

"Sit  ye,  here  beside  me,  youth,"  said  Jocelyn, 
"and  presently  thou  shalt  know  these  tearers  of 
livers  and  biters  of  hearts  for  lambs  of  innocence 
and  doves  of  gentleness  —  by  their  own  confessions. 
For,  remark  now,  gentle  boy,  all  we  are  prisoners 
and  therefore  guiltless  of  every  offence  —  indeed, 
where  is  the  prisoner,  but  who,  according  to  himself, 
is  not  more  sinned  against  than  sinner,  and  where 
the  convicted  rogue  but,  with  his  tongue,  shall  dis- 
prove all  men's  testimony?  So  here  sit  three  guile- 
less men,  spotless  of  soul  and  beyond  all  thought 
innocent  of  every  sin  soever.  Yonder  is  Rob,  a 
robber,  and  here  sit  I,  a  Fool." 

82 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Ha!"  cried  Rick.  "Yet  murderous  Fool  art 
thou  and  apt  to  dagger-play !  Belike  hast  slain  a 
man  this  day  in  way  o'  folly  —  ha  ?" 

'Two!"  answered  Jocelyn,  nodding.  "These 
two  had  been  more  but  that  my  dagger  brake." 

Here  was  silence  awhile  what  time  Jocelyn  hummed 
the  line  of  a  song  and  his  companions  eyed  him  with 
looks  askance. 

"Why  then,  good  Folly,"  said  Rick  at  last,  "'t  is 
for  a  little  spilling  o'  blood  art  here,  a  little,  pretty 
business  o'  murder  —  ha?" 

"'T  is  so  they  name  it,"  answered  Jocelyn. 

"Bones  o'  me!"  growled  Will,  "I  do  begin  to 
love  this  Fool." 

"And  didst  pronounce  thyself  our  brother,  Fool  ?" 
questioned  Gurth. 

"Aye,  verily!" 

'Then  brethren  let  us  be  henceforth,  and  com- 
rades to  boot !"  cried  Rick.  "Jolly  Clerks  o'  Saint 
Nicholas  to  share  and  share  alike  —  ha  ?  So  then 
't  is  accorded.  And  now  what  o'  yon  lily-livered 
imp  ?  'T  is  a  sickly  youth  and  I  love  him  not.  But 
he  hath  a  cloak,  look'ee  —  a  cloak  forsooth  and  poor 
Rick  's  a-cold  !     Ho,  lad  —  throw  me  thy  cloak  !" 

"Beshrew  me  !"  roared  Gurth.  "But  he  beareth 
belt  and  wallet !  Ha,  boy,  give  thy  wallet  and  girdle 
—  bestow !" 

"And  by  sweet  Saint  Nick,"  growled  Will,  "the 
dainty  youngling  disporteth  himself  to  mine  eyes 
in  a  gold  finger-ring !  Aha,  boy !  Give  now  thy 
trinket  unto  an  honest  tanner." 

Hereupon  and  with  one  accord  up  started  the 
three,  fierce-eyed ;  but  Jocelyn,  laughing,  rose  up 
also. 

"Back,  corpses!"  quoth  he,  swinging  the  heavy 
fetters  to  and  fro  between  shackled  wrists.     "Stand, 

83 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

good  Masters  Dry-bones ;  of  what  avail  cloak,  or 
wallet,  or  ring  to  ye  that  are  dead  men  ?  Now,  since 
corpses  ye  are  insomuch  as  concerneth  this  world, 
be  ye  reasonable  and  kindly  corpses.  Sit  ye  then, 
Masters  Dust-and-Ashes,  and  I  will  incontinent  sing 
ye,  chant  or  intone  ye  a  little  song  of  organs  and 
graves  and  the  gallows-tree  whereon  we  must  dance 
anon ;  as,  hearken  : 

"  Sing  a  song  of  corpses  three 
That  ere  long  shall  dancing  be, 
On  the  merry  gallows-tree  — 

High  and  low, 

To  and  fro, 

Leaping,  skipping, 

Turning,  tripping, 

Wriggling,  whirling, 

Twisting,  twirling : 
Sing  hey  for  the  gallows-tree." 


<<  < 


'  Stint  —  stint  thy  beastly  song  now  ! "  cried  Will, 
pale  of  cheek.     But  Jocelyn  sang  the  louder  : 

"Sing  a  song  of  dying  groans, 
Sing  a  song  of  cries  and  moans, 
Sing  a  song  of  dead  men's  bones, 

That  shall  rest, 

All  unblest, 

To  rot  and  rot, 

Remembered  not, 

For  dogs  to  gnaw 

And  battle  for, 
Sing  hey  for  the  dead  rogue's  bones." 

"Abate  —  ha  —  abate  thy  fiendish  rant!"    cried 
Rick,  glancing  fearfully  over  shoulder. 

84 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Aye,  Fool  —  beseech  thee  !  Fair  flesh  may  not 
abide  it!"  cried  Gurth,  shivering,  while  Robin 
grinned  no  more  and  the  fearful  youth  leaned  wide- 
eyed  to  behold  the  singer,  this  strange,  scarred  face 
beneath  its  battered  cock's-comb,  these  joyous  eyes, 
these  smiling  lips  as  Jocelyn  continued  : 

"Now  ends  my  song  with  ghosts  forlorn, 
Three  gibbering  ghosts  that  mope  and  mourn, 
Then  shrieking,  flee  at  breath  of  dawn, 

Where  creatures  fell 

In  torment  dwell, 

Blind  things  and  foul, 

That  creep  and  howl, 

That  rend  and  bite 

And  claw  and  fight. 

Where  fires  red-hot 

Consume  them  not, 

And  they  in  anguish 

Writhe  and  languish 

And  groan  in  pain 

For  night  again. 
Sing  hey  for  pale  ghosts  forlorn." 

Now  when  the  song  was  ended,  the  three  looked 
dismally  on  one  another  and,  bethinking  them  of 
their  cruel  end,  they  groaned  and  sighed  lamentably  : 

My  daughter  gillian  interposeth  : 

Gill:        Father,  I  like  that  song,  it 's  fine; 
But  let  me  ask  about  this  line : 
"  Blind  things  and  foul, 
That  creep  and  howl." 
Now  tell  me,  please,  if  you  don't  mind, 
Why  were  the  little  horrors  blind  ? 
Myself  :  The  beastly  things,  as  I  surmise, 

Had  scratched  out  one  another's  eyes. 

85 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Gill  :        I  suppose  this  place  where  creatures  fell 
In  torments  dwell  is  meant  for 

Myself  :  Well, 

I  think,  my  Gill,  the  place  you  've  guessed, 
So  let  me  get  on  with  our  Geste. 

.  .  .  they  groaned  and  sighed  lamentably 

My  daughter  gillian  inter jecteth  : 

Gill  :        Father  —  now  don't  get  in  a  huff  — 

But  don't  you  think  they  've  groaned  enough  ? 

Myself  :  My  Gillian  —  no  !     Leave  well  alone ; 
This  is  the  place  for  them  to  groan. 

Lamentably  they  did  together  moan, 
And  uttered  each  full  many  a  hollow  groan. 

My  daughter  gillian  interposeth  : 

Gill  :        But,  father,  groans  are  so  distressing, 

And  groans  in  verse  are  most  depressing 

Myself  :  Then  peace,  child,  and  in  common  prose 
I  '11  let  the  poor  rogues  vent  their  woes  : 

.  .  .  they  groaned  and  they  sighed  lamentably  — 

My  daughter  gillian  interrupteth  : 

Gill  :        What,  father,  are  they  groaning  still  ? 

Myself  :  Of  course  they  are,  and  so  they  will, 
And  so  shall  I ;  so,  girl,  take  heed, 
And  cease  their  groaning  to  impede. 
Is  it  agreed  ? 

Gill  :  Oh,  yes,  indeed  ! 

Myself  :  Then  with  our  Geste  I  will  proceed. 

.  .  .  they  groaned  and  sighed  lamentably. 

"Alack  !"  cried  Gurth,  "I  had  not  greatly  minded 
till   now,   but   this   vile-tongued   Fool   hath  stirred 

86 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Fear  to  wakefulness  within  me.  Here  's  me,  scarce 
thirty  turned,  hale  and  hearty,  yet  must  die  woefully 
and  with  a  maid  as  do  love  me  grievously  ! " 

"And  me!"  groaned  Rick.  "No  more  than 
twenty  and  five,  I  —  a  very  lad  —  and  with  two 
maids  as  do  languish  for  me  fain  and  fond  ! " 

"Ha,  and  what  o'  me?"  mourned  dismal,  red- 
headed Will.  "A  lusty,  proper  fellow  I  be  and 
wi'  maids  a  score  as  do  sigh  continual.  And  me  to 
die  —  0  woe  !     And  I  a  tanner  ! " 

"Content  ye,  brothers!"  said  Jocelyn.  "Look 
now,  here  's  Gurth  hath  lived  but  thirty  years,  and 
now  must  die  —  good :  so  shall  he  die  weighted 
with  less  of  sin  than  had  he  lived  thirty  more.  Be 
ye  comforted  in  this,  distressful  rogues,  the  shorter 
our  life  the  less  we  sin,  the  which  is  a  fair,  good  thing. 
As  for  these  shackles,  though  our  bodies  be  'prisoned 
our  souls  go  free,  thus,  while  we  languish  here,  our 
souls  astride  a  sunbeam  may  mount  aloft,  'bove  all 
pains  and  tribulations  soever.  Thus  if  we  must 
dance  together  in  noose,  our  souls,  I  say,  escaping 
these  fleshy  bonds,  shall  wing  away  to  freedom 
everlasting.  Bethink  ye  of  this,  grievous  knaves, 
and  take  heart.  Regarding  the  which  same  truths 
I  will,  for  thy  greater  comforting,  incontinent  make 
ye  a  song  —  hearken  ! 

"  Let  Folly  sing  a  song  to  cheer 
All  poor  rogues  that  languish  here, 
Doomed  in  dismal  dungeon  drear, 
Doomed  in  dungeon  dim. 

"  Though  flesh  full  soon  beneath  the  sod 
Doth  perish  and  decay, 
Though  cherished  body  is  but  clod, 
Yet  in  his  soul  man  is  a  God, 
To  do  and  live  alway. 

87 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

So  hence  with  gloom  and  banish  fear, 
Come  Mirth  and  Jollity, 
Since,  though  we  pine  in  dungeon  drear, 
Though  these,  our  bodies,  languish  here, 
We  in  our  minds  go  free." 

Thus  cheerily  sang  Jocelyn  until,  chancing  to  see 
how  the  youth  leaned  forward  great-eyed,  watching 
as  he  sung,  he  broke  off  to  question  him  blithely  : 

"How  now,  good  youth,  hast  a  leaning  to  Folly 
e'en  though  Folly  go  fettered,  and  thyself  in  dun- 
geon  r 

"Fool,"  answered  the  youth,  soft-voiced,  "me- 
thinks  't  is  strange  Folly  can  sing  thus  in  chains ! 
Hast  thou  no  fear  of  death?" 

"Why  truly  I  love  it  no  more  than  my  fellow- 
fools.  But  I,  being  fool  uncommon,  am  wise  enough 
to  know  that  Death,  howsoe'er  he  come,  may  come 
but  once  —  and  there  's  a  comfortable  thought !" 

So  saying,  Jocelyn  seated  himself  beside  the  youth 
and  watched  him  keen-eyed. 

"And  thou  canst  sing  of  Freedom,  Fool,  to  the 
jangle  of  thy  fetters  ?  " 

"Truly,  youth,  't  is  but  my  baser  part  lieth 
shackled,  thus  while  body  pineth  here,  soul  walketh 
i'  the  kindly  sun  —  aye,  e'en  now  as  I  do  gaze  on 
thee,  I,  in  my  thought,  do  stand  in  a  fair  garden  — 
beside  a  lily-pool,  where  she  I  love  cometh  shy- 
footed  to  meet  me,  tall  and  gracious  and  sweet,  as 
her  flowers.  A  dream,  belike,  yet  in  this  dream 
she  looketh  on  me  with  eyes  of  love  and  love  is  on 
her  lips  and  in  her  heart  —  so  is  my  dream  very 
precious." 

At  this,  the  youth  shrank  beneath  his  cloak  while 
in  an  adjacent  corner  the  three  rolled  dice  with 
Robin  and  quarrelled  hoarse  and  loud. 

88 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Youth,"  said  Jocelyn,  "I  pray  thee,  tell  me  thy 


name." 


Without  lifting  head  the  youth  answered : 

"Hugo!" 

"  Look  up,  Hugo  ! "  But  Hugo  bowed  his  head  the 
lower. 

"Hast  wondrous  hair,  Hugo  —  red  gold  'neath 
thy  hood!" 

Here  came  a  slim,  white  hand  to  order  the  re- 
bellious tress  but,  finding  none,  trembled  and  hid 
itself.  Then  very  suddenly  Jocelyn  leaned  near  and 
caught  this  hand,  clasping  it  fast  yet  with  fingers 
very  gentle,  and  spake  quick  and  eager : 

"Hugo  —  alas,  Hugo!  What  bringeth  thee  in 
this  evil  place?     Art  in  danger?     Speak,  speak ! " 

"Nay,  here  is  no  harm  for  me,  Joconde.  And  I 
am  hither  come  for  sake  of  a  poor  Fool  that  is  braver 
than  the  bravest  —  one  did  jeopardise  his  foolish 
life  for  sake  of  a  maid,  wherefore  I,  Hugo,  do  give 
him  life.  Take  now  this  wallet,  within  is  good  store 
of  gold  and  better  —  a  potent  charm  to  close  all 
watchful  eyes.  Hist,  Joconde,  and  mark  me  well ! 
Ranulph  o'  the  Axe  is  a  mighty  drinker  —  to-night, 
drawn  by  fame  of  thy  wit,  he  cometh  with  his 
fellows.  This  money  shall  buy  them  wine,  in  the 
wine  cast  this  powder  so  shall  they  sleep  and  thou 
go  free." 

"Aye!"  said  Jocelyn,  "and  then?" 

"There  will  meet  thee  a  dwarf  shall  free  thee  of 
thy  fetters,  and  by  secret  ways  set  thee  without  the 
city  —  then,  tarry  not,  but  flee  for  thy  life " 

"Now  by  the  Holy  Rood  !"  quoth  Jocelyn  softly, 
"never  in  all  this  world  was  there  prisoner  so  happy 
as  this  poor  Fool !  But,  Hugo,  an  I  win  free  by 
reason  of  a  brave  and  noble  lady,  so  long  as  she  bide 
in  Canalise,  so  long  must  I " 

89 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

My  daughter  gillian  interposeth  : 

Gill  :        0,  father,  now  I  understand  — 
Of  course,  this  Hugo  is  Yolande  ! 

Myself  :  Exactly,  miss,  the  fact  is  clear ; 

But  how  on  earth  did  she  get  here  ? 
I  don't  want  her  here 

Gill:  Why  not? 

Myself  :  Because,  being  here,  she  spoils  my  plot, 
Which  would  drive  any  author  frantic  — 

Gill  :        I  think  it 's  fine,  and  most  romantic. 

Besides,  you  know,  you  wrote  her  there  - 

Myself  :  She  came  —  before  I  was  aware 

Gill  :        She  could  n't,  father,  for  just  think, 
You  've  made  her  all  of  pen  and  ink. 
So  you,  of  course,  can  make  her  do 
Exactly  as  you  want  her  to. 

Myself  :  Dear  innocent !     You  little  know 
The  trials  poor  authors  undergo. 
How  heroines,  when  they  break  loose, 
Are  apt  to  play  the  very  deuce, 
Dragging  their  authors  to  and  fro, 
And  where  he  wills  —  they  will  not  go. 

Gill  :        Well,  since  she  's  here,  please  let  her  be, 
She  wants  to  set  Duke  Joc'lyn  free. 

Myself  :  Enough  —  enough,  my  plans  are  made, 
I  '11  set  him  free  without  her  aid, 
And  in  a  manner,  I  apprise  you, 
As  will,  I  fancy,  quite  surprise  you. 
Besides,  a  dungeon  no  fit  place  is 
For  a  dainty  lady's  graces. 
So,  since  she  's  in,  't  is  very  plain 
I  now  must  get  her  out  again. 


"To  bide  in  Canalise,  't  is  folly!"  cried  Hugo. 
"O,  't  were  a  madness  fond !" 

"Aye,"  sighed  Jocelyn,  "some  do  call  love  a 
madness  —  thus  mad  am  I,  forsooth  !" 

"Hush  !"   whispered  Hugo,  as  from  without  came 

90 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

the  tramp  of  heavy  feet.     "  Fare-thee-well  and  — 
ah,  be  not  mad,  Joconde!" 

The  door  creaked  open,  and  six  soldiers  entered 
bringing  a  prisoner,  chained  and  fettered,  and  there- 
with fast  bound  and  gagged,  whom  they  set  ungently 
upon  the  stone  floor ;  then  straightway  seizing  upon 
Robin,  they  haled  him  to  his  feet. 

"Come,  rogue,"  said  one,  "thou  art  to  hang  at  cock- 
crow ! " 
"Is  't  so,  good  fellows  ?"  quoth  Robin, 

"  Then  cock  be  curst 
That  croweth  first ! 

As  for  thee,  good  Motley,  peradventure  when,  by 
hangman's  noose,  our  souls  enfranchised  go,  they 
shall  company  together,  thine  and  mine !  Till  then 
—  farewell,  Folly!" 

So  Robin  was  led  forth  of  the  dungeon  and  the 
heavy  door  crashed  shut ;  but  when  Jocelyn  looked 
for  Hugo  —  lo  !  he  was  gone  also. 

Evening  was  come  and  the  light  began  to  fail, 
therefore  Jocelyn  crouched  beneath  the  narrow  loop- 
hole and  taking  from  his  bosom  the  wallet,  found 
therein  good  store  of  money  together  with  the  charm 
or  philtre :  and  bowing  his  head  above  this  little 
wallet,  he  fell  to  profound  meditation. 

But  presently,  roused  by  hoarse  laughter,  he 
glanced  up  to  find  the  three  plaguing  the  helpless 
prisoner  with  sundry  kicks  and  buffets ;  so  Jocelyn 
crossed  the  dungeon,  and  putting  the  tormentors 
aside,  stood  amazed  to  behold  in  this  latest  captive 
none  other  than  Sir  Pertinax.  Straightway  he 
loosed  off  the  gag,  whereupon  the  good  knight  in- 

9* 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

continent  swore  a  gasping  oath  and  prayed  his  limbs 
might  be  loosed  also ;  the  which  done,  he  forthwith 
sprang  up,  and  falling  on  the  astonished  three,  he  beat 
and  clouted  them  with  fist  and  manacles,  and  drave 
them  to  and  fro  about  the  dungeon. 

"Ha,  dogs!  Wilt  spurn  me  with  they  vile  feet, 
buffet  me  with  thy  beastly  hands,  forsooth  !"  roared 
he  and  kicked  and  cuffed  them  so  that  they,  thinking 
him  mad,  cried  aloud  in  fear  until  Sir  Pertinax, 
growing  a-weary,  seated  himself  against  the  wall, 
and  folding  his  arms,  scowled  indignant  upon  Jocelyn 
who  greeted  him  merrily  : 

"Hail  and  greeting  to  thee,  my  Pertinax;  thy 
gloomy  visage  is  a  joy  !" 

Sir  Pertinax  snorted,  but  spake  not;  wherefore 
the  Duke  questioned  him  full  blithe:  "What  fair, 
good  wind  hath  blown  thee  dungeon-wards,  sweet 
soul?" 

"Ha!"  quoth  the  knight.  "Fetters,  see'st  thou,  a 
dungeon,  and  these  foul  knaves  for  company  —  the 
which  cometh  of  thy  fool's  folly,  messire  !  So  prithee 
ha'  done  with  it ! " 

"Stay,  gentle  gossip,  thou  'rt  foolish,  methinks ; 
thou  frettest  'gainst  fate,  thou  kickest  unwisely 
'gainst  the  pricks,  thou  ragest  pitifully  'gainst  cir- 
cumstance —  in  fine,  thou  'rt  a  very  Pertinax,  my 
Pertinax ! " 

"Aye  troth,  that  am  I  and  no  dog  to  lie  thus 
chained  in  noisome  pit,  par  Dex !  So  let  us  out, 
messire,  and  that  incontinent ! " 

"Why  here  is  a  bright  thought,  sweet  lad,  let  us 
out  forthwith  —  but  how  ?" 

"Summon  the  town-reeve,  messire,  the  burgesses, 
the  council,  declare  thy  rank,  so  shall  we  go  free  — 
none  shall  dare  hold  thus  a  prince  of  thy  exalted 
state  and  potent  might !     Declare  thyself,  lord." 

92 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

•'This  were  simple  matter,  Pertinax,  but  shall  they 
believe  us  other  than  we  seem,  think  ye?" 

Quoth  Pertinax:  "We  can  try!" 

"Verily,"  said  Jocelyn,  "this  very  moment !"  So 
saying,  he  turned  to  the  three  who  sat  in  a  corner 
muttering  together. 

"Good  brothers,  gentle  rogues,"  said  he,  "behold 
and  regard  well  this  sturdy  cut-throat  fellow  that 
sitteth  beside  me,  big  of  body,  unseemly  of  habit, 
fierce  and  unlovely  of  look  —  one  to  yield  the  wall 
unto,  see  ye !  And  yet  —  now  heed  me  well,  this 
fellow,  ragged  and  unkempt,  this  ill-looking  haunter 
of  bye-ways,  this  furtive  snatcher  of  purses  (hold 
thy  peace,  Pertinax !) .  I  say  this  unsavoury-seem- 
ing clapper-claw  is  yet  neither  one  nor  other,  but 
a  goodly  knight,  famous  in  battle,  joust  and  tourney, 
a  potent  lord  of  noble  heritage,  known  to  the  world 
as  Sir  Pertinax  of  Shene  Castle  and  divers  rich 
manors  and  demesnes.  Furthermore,  I  that  do 
seem  a  sorry  jesting-fellow,  I  that  in  antic  habit  go, 
that  cut  ye  capers  with  ass's  ears  a-dangle  and 
languish  here  your  fellow  in  bonds,  am  yet  no  antic, 
no  poor,  motley  Fool,  but  a  duke  and  lord  of  many 
fair  towns  and  rich  cities  beyond  Morfeville  and  the 
Southward  March.     How  say  ye,  brothers?" 

"That  thou  'rt  a  fool !"  quoth  Rick. 

"True!"  nodded  Jocelyn. 

"Most  true  !"  sighed  Sir  Pertinax. 

"And  a  liar  !"  growled  Gurth. 

"And  a  murderous  rogue!"  cried  Will,  "and 
shall  hang,  along  of  us  —  as  I  'm  a  tanner  ! " 

"Alack,  Sir  Knight,"  smiled  Jocelyn,  "of  what 
avail  rank  or  fame  or  both  'gainst  a  motley  habit 
and  a  ragged  mantle.  Thus,  Pertinax,  thou  art 
no  more  than  what  thou  seemest,  to  wit  —  a  poor, 
fierce  rogue,  and  I,  a  beggarly  stroller." 

93 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"And  like  to  have  our  necks  stretched,  lord,  by 
reason  of  a  fond  and  foolish  whim  ! " 

"Unless,  Pertinax,  having  naught  to  depend  on 
but  our  native  wit  we,  by  our  wit,  win  free.  Other 
poor  rogues  in  like  case  have  broke  prison  ere  now, 
and  't  is  pity  and  shame  in  us  if  thou,  a  knight  so 
potent  and  high-born,  and  I,  a  prince,  may  not  do 
the  like." 

"Messire,  unlearned  am  I  in  the  breaking  o' 
prisons  so  when  my  time  cometh  to  die  in  a  noose 
I  can  but  die  as  knight  should  —  though  I  had 
rather  't  were  in  honest  fight." 

"  Spoken  like  the  very  fool  of  a  knight ! "  quoth 
Jocelyn.  "So  now  will  I  show  thee  how  by  the  wit 
of  a  brave  and  noble  lady  we  may  yet  'scape  the 
hangman.     Hearken  in  thine  ear  !" 

But,  when  Jocelyn  had  told  him  all  and  shown 
money  and  sleeping-charm,  Sir  Pertinax  grew 
thoughtful,  sighing  deep  and  oft,  yet  speaking  not, 
wherefore  the  Duke  questioned  him. 

"Good    gossip,    gasp    not!"     quoth    he.     "How 
think'st  thou  of  prison-breaking  now  —  expound  ! " 
"Why,  sir,  I  think  when  all  do  charmed  and  spell- 
bound snore, 
Then  will  we  shrewdly  choke  them  that  they  wake 
no  more !" 

"Nay,  Pertinax,  here  shall  be  no  need  of  choking, 
forsooth!"  Sir  Pertinax  bowed  chin  on  fist  and 
sighed  again. 

"Pertinax,  prithee  puff  not!  Yet,  an  puff  ye 
will,  pronounce  me  then  the  why  and  wherefore  of 
thy  puffing." 

"Lord,  here  is  neither  gasp  nor  puff,  here  is  honest 
sighing.     I  can  sigh  as  well  as  another." 

"Since  when  hast  learned  this  so  tender  art,  my 
Pertinax?" 

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The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"And  I  do  sigh  by  reason  of  memory." 

"As  what,  Pertinax?" 

"Eyes,  lord  —  her  eyes  so  darkly  bright  and,  as 
I  do  think  —  black  !" 

"Nay,  blue,  Pertinax  —  blue  as  heaven  !" 

"Black,  messire,  black  as  —  as  black  !" 

"Blue,  boy,  blue!" 

"Lord,  they  are  black  !" 

"Speak'st  thou  of  Yolande?" 

"Messire,  of  one  I  speak,  but  whom,  I  know  not. 
She  came  to  me  i'  the  greenwood  as  I  sat  a-fishing. 
Her  hair  long  and  black  —  ay,  black  and  curled, 
her  eyes  dark,  and  for  beauty  ne'er  saw  I  her  like." 

"And  yet  hast  seen  my  Lady  Yolande  oft !" 

"Her  voice,  messire,  her  voice  soft  and  sweet  as 
the  murmur  of  waters,  and  very  full  of  allure." 

"Why,  how  now!"  cried  Jocelyn.  "Art  thou  — 
thou,  my  Pertinax,  become  at  last  one  of  Cupid's 
humble  following?  All  joy  to  thee,  my  lovely 
lover  —  here  in  truth  is  added  bond  betwixt  us ! 
For  since  thou  dost  love  a  maid,  even  as  I  do  love 
a  maid,  so  being  lovers  twain  needs  must  we  love 
each  other  the  better  therefore." 

"Nay,  out  alack,  my  lord!"  sighed  Sir  Pertinax. 
"For  though  I  do  love  her,  she,  by  reason  o'  my 
ill-favoured  looks,  the  which,  woe  's  me,  I  may  not 
alter,  loveth  not  me,  as  I  do  judge." 

"How  judge  ye  this?" 

"Lord,  she  giveth  me  hard  names.  She,  all  in  a 
breath,  hath  pictured  me  thus:  'Hooked  of  nose, 
fierce-eyed,  of  aspect  grim  —  ungentle,  unlovely, 
harsh  o'  tongue,  dour  o'  visage,  hard  o'  heart,  flinty 
o'  soul  and  of  manners  rude.' ' 

"Good  !     But  was  this  all,  my  Pertinax?" 

"Nay,  lord,  and  with  a  wannion  —  there  was 
more  to  like  purpose." 

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The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Excellent,  my  lovely  knight  —  let  hope  sing  in 
thee.  For  look  now,  if  she  named  thee  hooked  of 
nose,  fierce-eyed  and  of  aspect  grim  —  she  speaketh 
very  truth,  for  so  thou  art,  my  Pertinax.  Now  truth 
is  a  fair  virtue  in  man  or  maid,  so  is  she  both  virtuous 
and  fair !  Nay,  puff  not,  sighful  Pertinax,  but  for 
thy  comforting  mark  this  —  she  hath  viewed  and 
heeded  thy  outward  man  narrowly  —  so  shall  she 
not  forget  thee  soon ;  she  with  woman's  eye  hath 
marked  the  great  heart  of  thee  through  sorry  habit 
and  rusty  mail,  and  found  therein  the  love  thy  harsh 
tongue  might  not  utter;  and  thus,  methinks,  she 
hath  thee  in  mind  —  aye,  even  now,  mayhap. 
Lastly,  good,  lovely  blunderbore  —  mark  this !  'T  is 
better  to  win  a  maid's  anger  than  she  should  heed 
thee  none  at  all.  Let  love  carol  i'  thy  heart  and  be 
ye  worthy,  so,  when  ye  shall  meet  again,  'tis  like 
enough,  despite  thy  hooked  nose,  she  shall  find  thine 
eyes  gentle,  thy  unloveliness  lovely,  thy  harsh  tongue 
wondrous  tender  and  thy  flinty  soul  the  soul  of  a 


man." 


"Why,  faith,  lord,"  quoth  Pertinax,  his  grim  lips 
softening  to  a  smile,  "despite  her  words,  she  spake 
in  voice  full  sweet,  and  her  eyes  —  ah,  messire,  her 
eyes  were  wondrous  kind  —  gentle  eyes  —  aye,  her 
eyes  were " 

"Eyes,  my  Pertinax  —  black  eyes  !" 

"And  gentle !  By  which  same  token,  lord,  she 
did  give  to  me  this  token  —  this  most  strange 
trinket." 

But  all  at  once,  was  the  creak  of  hinges,  and  the 
ponderous  door  opening,  Ranulph  o'  the  Axe  ap- 
peared, followed  by  divers  of  the  warders  bearing 
torches. 

"Oho!"  sighed  Ranulph,  doleful  of  visage.  "Aha, 
good  bawcocks,  here  come  I,  and  these  my  fellows, 

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The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

for  love  o'  thee,  good  Fool,  thy  quips,  thy  quirks, 
thy  songs  and  antics  capersome.  For  troth  I  'm  a 
merry  dog,  I  —  a  wanton  wag,  a  bully  boy  and  jovial, 
though  woeful  o'  look  !" 

"Wherefore  woeful !" 

"For  that  I  am  not  joyous,  good  Motley.  Look  'ee 
—  here  's  me  born  with  a  rare,  merry  heart,  but  sad 
and  sober  of  head !  Here  's  a  heart  bubbling  with 
kindliness  and  soft  and  tender  as  sucking  lamb, 
wedded  to  head  and  face  full  o'  gloom !  Here  's 
laughter  within  me  and  woe  without  me,  so  am  I 
ever  at  odds  with  myself  —  and  there  's  my  sorrow. 
Regarding  the  which  same  I  will  now  chaunt  ye 
song  I  made  on  myself;  'twas  meant  for  merry 
song  and  blithe,  but  of  itself  turned  mournful  song 
anon  as  ye  shall  hear." 

So  saying,  Ranulph  o'  the  Axe  threw  back  grim 
head  and  sang  gruff,  albeit  plaintive,  thus : 

"O !  merry  I  am  and  right  merry  I  '11  be, 

Ho-ho  for  block,  gibbet  and  rack  —  oho  ! 

To  hang  or  behead  ye  there  's  none  like  to  me, 

For  I  'm  headsman,  tormentor,  and  hangman,  all 

three, 
And  never  for  work  do  I  lack  —  oho ! 

"  I  live  but  to  torture  since  torment's  my  trade, 
But  my  torment  well  meant  is,  I  trow ; 
If  I  hang  or  behead  ye,  it  can't  be  gainsaid, 
Though  my  head  for  the  head  of  a  headsman  was 

made, 
Still  I  'm  all  loving-kindness  below. 

"  But  if  ever  I  strive  merry  story  to  tell, 

Full  of  japeful  and  humorsome  graces, 

'T  is  as  though  I  were  tolling  a  funeral  bell 

97 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

As  if  dismally,  dolefully  tolling  a  knell, 
So  solemn  and  sad  grow  all  faces. 

"  I  hang,  burn  and  torture  the  best  that  I  may, 

Ho  pincers  and  thumbscrews  and  rack  —  oho  ! 

And  all  heads  I  cut  off  in  a  headsmanlike  way ; 

So  I  '11  hang,  burn  and  torment  'till  cometh  the  day 

That  my  kind  heart  within  me  shall  crack  —  oho ! 

Well-a-wey !     Well-a-wey ! 

Woe  is  me  for  the  day 

That  my  poor  heart  inside  me  shall  crack !     Oho ! 

"  So  there  's  my  song !  'T  is  dull  song  and,  striv- 
ing to  be  merry  song,  is  sad  song,  yet  might  be  worse 
song,  for  I  have  heard  a  worse  song,  ere  now  —  but 
't  is  poor  song.  So  come,  Fool,  do  thou  sing  us  merry 
song  to  cheer  us  'gainst  my  sad  song." 

"Why  truly,  Sir  Headsman,"  said  Jocelyn,  "here 
be  songs  a-many,  yet  if  thou  'rt  for  songs,  songs  will 
we  sing  thee,  each  and  every  of  us.  But  first,  be- 
hold here  is  money  shall  buy  us  wine  in  plenty  that 
we  may  grow  merry  withal  in  very  sooth." 

"Oho!"  cried  Ranulph.  "Spoken  like  a  noble 
Motley,  a  fair,  sweet  Fool !  Go  thou,  Bertram,  obey 
this  lord-like  Fool  —  bring  wine,  good  wine  and 
much,  and  haste  thee,  for  night  draweth  on  and  at 
cock-crow  I  must  away." 

"Aye,"  nodded  Jocelyn,  "in  the  matter  of  one  — 
Robin  ?  " 

"Verily,  Fool.  A  cheery  soul  is  Robin,  though 
an  outlaw,  and  well  beloved  in  Canalise.  So  is  he 
to  hang  at  cock-crow  lest  folk  make  disturbance." 

"Where  lieth  he  now?" 

"Where  but  in  the  watch-house  beside  the  gallows 
'neath  Black  Lewin's  charge.  But  come,  good 
Motley,  sing  —  a  pretty  song,  a  merry  ditty,  ha ! " 

98 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

So  forthwith  Jocelyn  took  his  lute  and  sang : 

"With  dainty  ditty 
Quaint  and  pretty 
I  will  fit  ye, 

So  heed  and  mark  me  well, 
And  who  we  be 
That  here  ye  see 
Now  unto  ye 
Explicit  I  will  tell : 

"  Then  here  first  behold  one  Gurth,  a  worthy,  dying 

Dyer, 
Since  he  by  dyeing  liveth,  so  to  dye  is  his  desire : 
For  being  thus  a  very  Dyer,  he  liveth  but  to  dye, 
And  dyeing  daily  he  doth  all  his  daily  wants 

supply. 
Full   often   hath  he   dyed  ere  now  to  earn   his 

daily  bread, 
Thus,  dyeing  not,  this  worthy  Dyer  must  soon, 

alas !  be  dead. 

"  Here  's  Rick  —  a  saintly  ploughman,  he 
Hath  guided  plough  so  well, 
That  here,  with  rogues  the  like  of  me, 
He  pines  in  dungeon  cell. 

"  Here  's  Red-haired  Will  —  O  fie  ! 
That  Will  should  fettered  lie 
In  such  base,  cruel  manner ! 
For  though  his  hair  be  red, 
Brave  Will,  when  all  is  said, 
Is  —  hark  'ee  —  Will 's  a  tanner  ! " 

"Enough,  Fool!"  cried  Will.  "An  thou  must 
sing,  sing  of  thyself,  for  thyself,  to  thyself,  and  I 
will  sing  of  myself  an'  need  be !" 

99 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Laughed  Jocelyn  : 

Why  then,  brave  Will, 
Come,  sing  thy  fill. 

Whereupon  Will  cleared  his  throat,  squared  his 
shoulders,  and  rumbling  a  note  or  so  to  fix  the  key, 
burst  into  songful  roar : 

"A  tanner  I,  a  lusty  man, 
A  tanner  men  call  Will, 
And  being  tanner  true,  I  tan, 
Would  I  were  tanning  still ; 
Ho  derry,  derry  down, 
Hey  derry  down, 
Would  I  were  tanning  still." 

"Aye,  verily!"  growled  Sir  Pertinax.  "And 
choked  in  thy  vile  tan-pit,  for  scurvier  song  was 
never  heard,  par  Dex  !" 

"Why  'tis  heard,  forsooth,"  said  Jocelyn,  "and 
might  be  heard  a  mile  hence !  Chant  on,  brave 
Will." 

The  Tanner,  nothing  loth,  wiped  his  mouth, 
clenched  his  fists  and  standing  square  and  rigid, 
continued : 

"How  gaily  I  a-tanning  went, 
No  tanner  blithe  as  I, 
No  tanner  e'er  so  innocent, 
Though  here  in  chains  I  lie. 
Ho  derry  down, 
Hey  derry  down, 
In  grievous  chains  I  lie. 

"  No  more,  alack,  poor  Will  will  tan, 
Since  Will  will,  all  unwilling, 
Though  tanner  he  and  proper  man, 

IOO 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

A  gloomy  grave  be  filling. 

Hey  derry  down, 

Ho  derry  down, 

A  gloomy  grave  be  filling." 

"Now  out  upon  thee,  Tanner !"  sighed  Ranulph. 
"Here's  sad  song,  a  song  o'  graves,  and  therefore 
most  unlovely,  a  song  I  —  Saints  and  Angels ! ': 
he  gasped : 

And  pointed  where  Sir  Pertinax  did  stand, 

The  Heart  of  Crystal  shining  in  his  hand. 

"The  Heart-in-Heart !    The  Crystal  Heart!"    cried 

he, 
And  crying  thus,  sank  down  on  bended  knee, 
While  jailers  all  and  scurvy  knaves,  pell-mell, 
Betook  them  to  their  marrow-bones  as  well ; 
Whereat  Sir  Pertinax  oped  wond'ring  eyes, 
And  questioned  him  'twixt  anger  and  surprise. 
Then  answered  Ranulph,  "Sir,  though  chained  ye 

go, 
Yet  to  thee  we  do  all  obedience  owe 
By  reason  of  that  sacred  amulet, 
That  crystal  heart  in  heart  of  crystal  set : 

'For  he  that  holdeth  Crystal  Heart 
Holdeth  all  and  every  part, 
And  by  night  or  eke  by  day 
The  Heart-in-Heart  all  must  obey  ! ' " 

"Obey?"  quoth  Pertinax.     "Ha!     Let  us  see 
If  in  thy  vaunt  there  aught  of  virtue  be : 
For  by  this  Heart  of  Crystal  that  I  bear, 
I  charge  ye  loose  the  chains  the  Fool  doth  wear, 
Then  off  with  these  accursed  gyves  of  mine, 
Or " 

IOI 


J» 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Ranulph  to  the  warders  gave  a  sign, 
And  they  to  work  did  go  with  such  good  speed, 
That  Joc'lyn  soon  with  Pertinax  stood  freed, 
"Now  by  my  halidome  !"   quoth  Pertinax, 
"This  talisman  methinks  no  magic  lacks, 
So  knaves,  I  bid  ye  —  by  this  magic  Heart, 
Draw  bolt  and  bar  that  hence  we  may  depart  — 
But  now  the  scurvy  knaves  made  dismal  cry. 
"Good  sir  !"  they  wailed,  "Ah,  leave  us  not  to  die  !" 
"Aye,  by  Heav'n's  light !"  fierce  quoth  Sir  Pertinax, 
"Ye  're  better  dead  by  gibbet  or  by  axe, 
Since  naught  but  scurvy,  coward  rogues  are  ye, 
And  so  be  hanged  —  be  hanged  to  ye,  all  three ! " 

"Knight!"   Joc'lyn  sighed,  "'neath  Heaven's  light 

somewhere 
Doth  live  a  dark-eyed  maid  with  black-curled  hair  — 
Her  voice  is  soft  and  full  of  sweet  allure, 
And  thou,  perchance,  one  day  may  humbly  woo  her; 
So  these  poor  rogues  now  woo  their  lives  of  thee, 
Show  mercy  then  and  mercy  find  of  she." 

At  this  Sir  Pertinax  rubbed  chin  and  frowned, 
Red  grew  his  cheek,  his  fierce  eyes  sought  the  ground, 
Then,  even  as  he  thus  pinched  chin  and  scowled, 
"Loose,    then,    the    dismal    knaves!"     at    last    he 

growled. 
But  now  grim  Ranulph  tangled  beard  tore 
And  wrung  his  hands  and  sighed  and  groaned  and 

swore 
With  loud  complaints  and  woeful  lamentations, 
With  muttered  oaths  and  murmured  objurgations, 
With  curses  dire  and  impious  imprecations. 

"Beshrew  me,   masters   all!"    quoth  he.    "Now 
here  's  ill  prank  to  play  a  poor  hangman,  may  I 

1 02 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

ne'er  quaff  good  liquor  more,  let  me  languish  o'  the 
quartern  ague  and  die  o'  the  doleful  dumps  if  I 
ever  saw  the  like  o'  this !  For  look  'ee  now,  if  I  set 
these  three  rogues  free,  how  may  I  hang  'em  as  hang 
'em  I  must,  since  I  by  hanging  live  to  hang  again, 
and  if  I  don't  hang  'em  whom  shall  I  hang  since 
hang  I  must,  I  being  hangman?  Bethink  ye  o' 
this,  sirs,  and  show  a  little  pity  to  a  poor  hangman." 

"Why  then,  mark  ye  this,  hangman,"  said 
Jocelyn,  "since  on  hanging  doth  thy  hangman's 
reputation  hang,  then  hang  thou  must;  therefore, 
an  ye  lack  rogue  to  hang,  go  hang  thyself, 
so,  hanging,  shall  thy  hanging  be  done  with  and 
thou  having  lived  a  hangman,  hangman  die,  thus, 
hangman  hanging  hangman,  hangman  hanging  shall 
be  hangman  still,  and  being  still,  thus  hanging,  shall 
hang  no  more." 

"Aye,  verily!"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  "there  it  is 
in  a  nutshell  —  hangman,  be  hanged  to  thee  !  So 
off  with  their  fetters,  Master  Gallows,  by  Crystal 
Heart  I  charge  thee  !" 

Hereupon  the  scurvy  knaves  were  freed,  to  their 
great  joy,  and  following  the  bold  knight,  made  haste 
to  quit  their  gloomy  dungeon.  Reaching  the  guard- 
room above,  Sir  Pertinax  called  lustily  for  sword 
and  bascinet,  and  thereafter  chose  divers  likely 
weapons  for  his  companions  who,  with  axe  and  pike 
and  guisarme  on  shoulder,  followed  him  out  into  the 
free  air. 

Now  it  was  night  and  very  dark,  but  Gurth,  who 
was  a  man  of  the  town,  brought  them  by  dim  and 
lonely  alleys  and  crooked  ways  until  at  last  they 
halted  within  a  certain  dark  and  narrow  street. 

"Whither  now?"   questioned  Sir  Pertinax. 

"Verily,"  said  Jocelyn,  "where  but  to  the  gate- 
house   " 

103 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Not  so,'*  muttered  Gurth,  "'tis  overly  well 
guarded " 

"Aye,"  growled  Will,  "which  is  true,  as  I'm  a 
tanner!" 

"Howbeit,"  said  Jocelyn,  "I'm  for  the  gate- 
house ! " 

"And  wherefore?"  demanded  Sir  Pertinax. 

"In  cause  of  one  Rob,  a  robber." 

"Aye,  but,"  said  Gurth,  "he  is  to  hang  at  crow- 
o'-cock  and  'tis  nigh  cock-crow  now." 

"The  more  need  for  haste,"  said  Jocelyn. 

But,  even  now,  as  they  together  spoke, 
A  sullen  tramp  the  sleeping  echoes  woke, 
Behind  them  in  the  gloom  dim  forms  they  saw, 
While  others  grimly  barred  the  way  before ; 
And  so,  by  reason  that  they  could  not  fly, 
They  grasped  their  weapons  and  prepared  to  die. 
Then  in  the  darkness  of  that  narrow  street, 
Broad  axe  and  pike  and  flashing  sword  did  meet. 
Duke  Jocelyn  full  many  a  thrust  drave  home, 
Till  whirling  pike-staff  smote  him  on  cock's-comb, 
And  staggering  back  to  an  adjacent  wall, 
In  deep-sunk  doorway  groaning  he  did  fall. 

My  daughter  gillian  remonstrateth  : 

Gill  :        Now,  father,  please  don't  let  him  die  — 
Myself  :  No,  no,  indeed,  my  Gill,  not  I, 

My  heroes  take  a  lot  of  killing 

Gill  :        Then  go  on  quick,  it 's  very  thrilling ! 
I  hope  he  vanquishes  his  foes, 
And  let  him  do  it,  please,  in  prose. 


"  i 


:0  woe!"    said  a  quavering  voice.     "Alack,  and 

well-a-wey " 

104 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

My  daughter  gillian  demurreth : 

Gill  :        No,  father  —  that 's  not  right  at  all. 

You  'd  got  to  where  you  'd  made  him  fall. 
Myself  :  Well,  then,  Duke  Joc'lyn,  from  his  swoon 
awaking, 

Found    that    his    head    confoundedly    was 
aching ; 

Found  he  was  bruised  all  down  from  top  to 

toe 

Gill  :        A  bruise,  father,  and  he  a  duke  ?     No,  no  ! 

Besides,  you  make 

A  frightful  mistake  — 

A  hero's  head  should  never  ache ; 

And,  father,  now,  whoever  knew 

A  hero  beaten  black  and  blue? 

And  then  a  bruise,  it  seems  to  me, 

Is  unromantic  as  can  be. 

He  can't  be  bruised, 

And  shan't  be  bruised, 

For,  if  you  bruise  him, 

And  ill-use  him, 

I  '11  refuse  him  — 

No  reader,  I  am  sure,  would  choose 

A  hero  any  one  can  bruise. 

So,  father,  if  you  want  him  read, 

Don't  bruise  him,  please  — 
Myself  :  Enough  is  said  ! 

At  this,  Jocelyn  sat  up  and  wondered  to  find  him- 
self in  a  small  chamber  dim-lit  by  a  smoking  cresset. 
On  one  side  of  him  leaned  an  ancient  woman,  a 
very  hag-like  dame 

With  long,   sharp  nose   that  downward   curved   as 

though 
It  fain  would,  beak-like,  peck  sharp  chin  below ; 

and  upon  his  other  side  a  young  damsel  of  a  wondrous 
dark  beauty. 

105 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Lady,"  said  he,  "where  am  I?" 

"Hush,  poor  Motley!"  whispered  the  maid. 
"Thou  didst  fall  'gainst  the  door  yonder.  But 
speak  low,  they  that  seek  thy  life  may  yet  be  nigh." 

"Nay,  then,"  quoth  Jocelyn,  reaching  for  his 
sword,  "I  must  out  and  aid  my  comrades." 

"Alack!"  sighed  the  old  woman.  "Thy  com- 
rades do  without  lie  all  slain  save  one  that  groaneth 
—  hearken !" 

"O,  woe!"  mourned  a  quavering  voice  beyond 
the  door.  "O,  woe,  sore  hurted  I  be,  and  like  to 
die  —  and  I  a  tanner  !" 

Very  needfully,  Jocelyn  unbarred  the  door,  and 
peering  into  the  narrow  street,  found  it  deserted 
and  empty  save  for  certain  outstretched  forms  that 
stirred  not;  looking  down  on  these  dim  shapes  he 
knew  one  for  Rick  the  Ploughman,  whose  ploughing 
days  were  sped  and,  huddled  in  a  corner  hard  by, 
he  found  Will  the  Tanner,  who  groaned  fitfully; 
but  of  Sir  Pertinax  and  Gurth  he  saw  nothing.  So 
Jocelyn  made  shift  to  bear  the  Tanner  within  the 
house,  and  here  Will,  finding  his  hurts  of  small 
account,  sat  up,  and  while  the  wise  old  woman 
bandaged  his  wound,  answered  Jocelyn's  eager 
questions,  and  told  how  Sir  Pertinax  and  Gurth  the 
Dyer  had  broken  through  their  assailants  and  made 
good  their  escape. 

Now,  when  the  old  woman  had  thus  cherished 
their  hurts,  Jocelyn  would  fain  have  given  her 
money,  but  she  mumbled  and  mowed  and  cracked 
her  finger- joints  and  shook  grey  head. 

"Not  so,  good  Fool!"  she  croaked,  "for  I  do 
know  thee  for  that  same  gentle  Motley  did  save 
me  from  Black  Lewin  —  a  murrain  seize  him  !  So 
now  will  I  save  thee  —  behold!"  So  saying  she 
set  bony  hand  to  wall ;   and  lo !   in  the  wall  yawned 

106 


<l)ugli,  poor  itiotlry!"  lulnsprrrti  tiu  mafo. 

JLl.iQr  106 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

a  square  opening  narrow  and  dark,  whence  issued  a 
cold  wind.  "Begone,  thou  brave  merryman!" 
quoth  she.  'Yonder  safety  lieth ;  this  darksome 
way  shall  carry  thee  out  beneath  the  city  wall !" 

"Gramercy,  thou  kindly  Witch!"  said  Jocelyn. 
"Yet  first  must  I  to  the  watch-house  beside  the  gate 
for  one  Robin  that  lieth  'prisoned  there." 

"How,  Fool,  dost  mean  Robin-a-Green  that  is  to 
hang?" 

"In  truth!" 

"But  Rob  o'  the  Green  is  outlawed,  banned  o' 
Church,  a  very  rogue  !" 

"But  a  man,  wherefore  I  would  save  him  alive." 

"Nay,  Fool,  o'  thy  folly  be  wise  and  seek  ye  safety 
instead.     Would'st  peril  thy  body  for  a  thief?" 

"Verily,  dame,  even  as  I  did  for  a  Witch." 

Now,  here  the  old  woman  scowled  and  mumbled 
and  cracked  her  finger-bones  angrily.  But  the 
beauteous  young  maid  viewed  Jocelyn  with  bright, 
approving  eyes : 

"But,  Fool,"  cried  she,  "O  wondrous  Fool,  wilt 
adventure  thyself  in  cause  so  desperate?" 

*| Blithely,  fair  lady!" 

"But,  alas!    the  guards  be  many  and  thou  but 


one 

<< 


Nay  ! "  cried  a  voice 


"For  thou  may'st  see 
That  two  are  we !" 

And  forth  of  the  dark  opening  in  the  wall  strode 
Lobkyn  Lollo  the  Dwarf,  his  great,  spiked  club  on 
brawny  shoulder.  Jocelyn  viewed  the  monstrous 
little  man  in  awed  wonder ;  but  beholding  his  mighty 
girth  and  determined  aspect,  wonder  changed  to 
kindliness  ;  quoth  he  : 

107 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Fair  greeting,  comrade!  If  thou  'rt  for  a  little 
bickering  and  disputation  with  that  goodly  club 
o'  thine,  come  thy  ways  for  methinks  I  do  smell  the 
dawn." 

"Aha,  thou  naughty  little  one  !"  cried  the  Witch, 
shaking  bony  fist.  "Art  for  fighting  for  rogue's  life 
along  of  a  Fool,  then  ?  " 

Quoth  Lobkyn  : 

Aye,  grannam,  though  ye  slap  me,  still, 
Fight  and  aid  this  Fool  I  will 

"And  talking  o'  Will,"  quoth  Will,  "what  o'  me, 
for  though  I  'm  a  tanner  I  'm  a  man,  aye,  verily, 
as  I  'm  a  tanner." 

"And  methinks  a  better  man  than  tanner!"  said 
Jocelyn.  "So  here  we  stand  three  goodly  wights  and 
well  armed.     Let 's  away " 

"Nay,  then,  wild  Madcap,"  croaked  the  Witch, 
"an  my  Lobkyn  go  I  go,  and,  though  I  be  old  and 
feeble,  shalt  find  my  craft  more  potent  than  sword 
or  club  —  wait !" 

Here  the  old  woman,  opening  a  dingy  cupboard, 
took  thence  a  small  crock  over  which  she  muttered 
spells  and  incantations  with  look  and  gesture  so 
evil  that  Lobkyn  eyed  her  askance,  Will  the  Tanner 
cowered  and  whispered  fragments  of  prayers,  and 
even  Jocelyn  crossed  himself. 

"Come!"  croaked  the  Witch.  "Now  do  I  go 
to  save  rogue  from  gallows  for  sake  of  thee,  tall 
Fool.  Come  ye,  come  and  do  as  I  bid  ye  in  all 
things —  come !" 


1 08 


FYTTE   6 

Tells  how  for  Robin  a  good  fight  was  fought 
And  our  old  Witch  a  spell  mysterious  wrought. 


Phcebus,  the  young  and  gladsome  god  of  day, 

His  fiery  steeds  had  yoked  to  flaming  car 

(By  which,  my  Gill,  you  may  surmise 

The  sun  was  just  about  to  rise) 

And  that  be-feathered,  crook-billed  harbinger, 

The  rosy-wattled  herald  of  the  dawn, 

Red  comb  aflaunt,  bold-eyed  and  spurred  for  strife, 

Brave  Chanticleer,  his  strident  summons  raised 

(By  which  fine  phrase  I  'd  have  you  know, 

The  cock  had  just  begun  to  crow) 

And  gentle  Zephyr,  child  of  Boreas, 

Stole  soft  the  hush  of  dewy  leaves, 

And  passing  kissed  the  flowers  to  wakefulness. 

Thus,  laden  with  their  sweetness,  Zephyr  came 

O'er  hill  and  dale,  o'er  battlement  and  wall, 

Into  the  sleeping  town  of  Canalise, 

Through  open  lattice  and  through  prison-bars, 

To  kiss  the  cheek  of  sleeping  Innocence 

And  fevered  brows  of  prisoners  forlorn, 

Who,  stirring  'neath  sweet  Zephyr's  soft  caress, 

Dreamed  themselves  young,  with  all  their  sins  un- 

wrought. 
So,  gentle  Zephyr,  messenger  of  dawn, 
Fresh  as  the  day-spring,  of  earth  redolent, 
Through  narrow  loophole  into  dungeon  stole, 
Where  Robin  the  bold  outlaw  fettered  lay, 
Who,  sighing,  woke  to  feel  her  fragrant  kiss, 

109 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And,  breathing  in  this  perfume-laden  air, 

He  seemed  to  smell  those  thousand  woodland  scents 

He  oft  had  known,  yet,  knowing,  never  heeded : 

Of  lofty  bracken,  golden  in  the  sun, 

Of  dewy  violets  shy  that  bloomed  dim-seen 

Beside  some  merry-laughing,  woodland  brook 

Which,  bubbling,  with  soft  music  filled  the  air ; 

The  fragrant  reek  of  smouldering  camp-fire 

Aglow  beside  some  dark,  sequestered  pool 

Whose  placid  waters  a  dim  mirror  made 

To  hold  the  glister  of  some  lonely  star ; 

He  seemed  to  see  again  in  sunny  glade 

The  silky  coats  of  yellow-dappled  deer, 

With  branching  antlers  gallantly  upborne ; 

To  hear  the  twang  of  bow,  the  whizz  of  shaft, 

And  cheery  sound  of  distant-winded  horn. 

Of  this  and  more  than  this,  bold  Robin  thought, 

And,  in  his  dungeon's  gloomy  solitude, 

He  groaned  full  deep  and,  since  no  eye  could  see, 

Shed  bitter  tears. 

My  daughter  gillian  supplicateth : 

Gill  :        Poor  Robin  !     Father,  promise  me 

To  save  him  from  the  gallows-tree. 

He  's  much  too  nice  a  man  to  kill ; 

So  save  him,  father ;  say  you  will ! 

Myself:  But  think  of  poor  Ranulph  with  no  one  to 

hang! 

Gill  :        Ranulph's  song  was  top-hole,  but 

Myself  :  You  know  I  hate  slang 

Gill  :        Yes,  father  —  but  then  I  hate  Ranulph  much 
more, 
With  his  nasty  great  beard  that  in  tangles  he 

wore. 
So,  father,  if  you  must  have  some  one  to  slay, 
Instead  of  poor  Robin,  hang  Ranulph  — — 
Myself  :  Why,  pray  ? 

no 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Gill  :        In  nice  books  the  nasty  folks  only  should  die ; 
Those  are  the  kind  of  books  nice  people  buy. 
I  like  a  book  that  makes  me  glad, 
And  loathe  a  book  that  makes  me  sad ; 
So,  as  this  Geste  is  made  for  me, 
Make  it  as  happy  as  can  be. 

Myself  :  And  is  it,  so  far,  as  you  'd  wish  ? 

Gill  :         Well,  father,  though  it 's  rather  swish, 
I  think  it  needs  a  deal  more  love 

Myself  :  Swish  ?    How  —  what 's  this  ?    Great  heavens 
above ! 
Will  you,  pray,  miss,  explain  to  me 
How  any  story  "swish"  may  be? 
And  why,  my  daughter,  you  must  choose 
A  frightful  word  like  "swish"  to  use?  * 
What  hideous  language  are  you  talking  ? 

Gill:        Sorrow,  father  !    "Swish"  means  "corking." 
I  think  our  Geste  is  "out  of  sight," 
Except  that,  to  please  me,  you  might 
Put  in  more  love 

Myself  :  Now,  how  can  Joc'lyn  go  love-making 
When  his  head  is  sore  and  aching  ? 
Besides,  this  is  no  place  to  woo ; 
He  '11  love-make  when  I  want  him  to. 

Gill  :        But,  father,  think  —  in  all  this  time, 

In  all  this  blank-verse,  prose  and  rhyme, 
The  fair  Yolande  he  's  never  kissed, 
And  you  Ve  done  nothing  to  assist ; 
And,  as  I  'm  sure  they  're  both  inclined, 
I  think  your  treatment  most  unkind. 

Myself  :  This  Geste  I  '11  write  in  my  own  way, 
That  is,  sweet  Prattler,  if  I  may ; 
When  I  'm  ready  for  them  to  kiss, 
Then  kiss  they  shall ;  I  promise  this. 
Now  I  '11  to  Rob  return,  if  you, 
My  Gillian,  will  permit  me  to ! 

Thus  in  his  prison  pent,  poor  woeful  Rob, 

Since  none  might  see  or  hear,  scorned  not  to  sob, 

III 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  mightily,  in  stricken  heart,  did  grieve 
That  he  so  soon  so  fair  a  world  must  leave. 
And  all  because  the  morning  wind  had  brought 
Earth's  dewy  fragrance  with  sweet  mem'ries  fraught. 
So  Robin  wept  nor  sought  his  grief  to  stay, 
Yearning  amain  for  joys  of  yesterday ; 
Till,  hearing  nigh  the  warder's  heavy  tread, 
He  sobbed  no  more  but  strove  to  sing  instead. 

"A  bow  for  me,  a  bow  for  me, 
All  underneath  the  greenwood  tree, 
Where  slaves  are  men,  and  men  are  free ; 
Give  me  a  bow  ! 

"Give  me  a  bow,  a  bow  of  yew, 
Good  hempen  cord  and  arrows  true, 
When  foes  be  thick  and  friends  be  few, 
Give  me  a  bow  !" 

Thus  cheerily  sang  Robin  the  while  he  dried 
his  bitter  tears,  as  the  door  of  his  prison  was  flung 
wide  and  Black  Lewin  strode  in  and  with  him 
men-at-arms  bearing  torches. 

"What  ho,  rogue  Robin!"  cried  he.  "The 
cock  hath  crowed.  Ha !  Will  ye  sing,  knave, 
will  ye  sing,  in  faith?" 

"In  faith,  that  will  I !"  laughed  Robin. 

"Here  come  we  to  bring  ye  to  the  gallows,  Robin 
—  how  say  ye?" 

"The  more  reason  for  singing  since  my  singing 
must  soon  be  done ! "  So,  with  pikemen  before 
him  and  behind,  bold  Robin  marched  forth  to  die, 
yet  sang  full  blithely  as  he  went : 

"So  lay  my  bones  'neath  good  yew-tree, 
Thus  Rob  and  yew  soon  one  shall  be, 
Where  all  true  men  may  find  o'  we 
A  trusty  bow  ! " 

112 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 


a- 


:Ha'  done!"  growled  Black  Lewin,  shivering 
in  the  chilly  air  of  dawn.  "Quit  —  quit  thy  singing, 
rogue,  or  by  the  foul  fiend  I " 

"Who  dareth  name  the  fiend?"  croaked  an 
awful  voice,  whereat  Black  Lewin  halted,  gaped 
and  stood  a-tremble,  while  beneath  steel  cap  and 
bascinet  all  men's  hair  stirred  and  rose  with  horror ; 
for  before  them  was  a  ghastly  shape,  a  shape  that 
crouched  in  the  gloom  with  dreadful  face  aflame 
with  smouldering  green  fire. 

"Woe!"  cried  the  voice.  "Woe  unto  thee, 
Lewin  the  Black,  that  calleth  on  fiend  o'  the  pit!" 

And  now  came  a  fiery  hand  that,  hovering  in 
the  air,  pointed  lambent  finger  at  gaping  Lewin 
and  at  each  of  the  shivering  pike-men  in  turn. 

"Woe  —  sorrow  and  woe  to  one  and  all,  ye  men 
of  blood,  plague  and  pest,  pain  o'  flesh,  and  grief 
of  soul  seize  ye,  be  accursed  and  so  —  begone ! 
Hence  ho  —  away  ! 

"Rommani  hi !     Avaunt,  I  say, 
Prendraxon ! 

Thus  direst  curse  on  ye  I  lay 
Shall  make  flesh  shrink  and  bone  decay, 
To  rot  and  rot  by  night  and  day 
Till  flesh  and  bone  do  fall  away, 
Mud  unto  mud  and  clay  to  clay. 
A  spell  I  cast, 
Shall  all  men  blast. 
Hark  ye, 
Mark  ye, 
Rommani  hi  —  prendraxon  ! " 

Down  fell  pike  and  guisarme  from  nerveless 
fingers  and,  gasping  with  fear,  Black  Lewin  and 
his  fellows  turned  and  fled  nor  stayed  for  one  look 
behind ;    only  Robin  stood  there   (since  he  might 

113 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

not  run  away  by  reason  of  his  bonds)  babbling 
prayers  between  chattering  teeth  and  with  all  his 
fingers  crossed. 

"Oho,  Fool,  aha!"  cried  the  voice.  'Thus 
have  I,  a  poor,  feeble  old  woman,  wrought  better 
than  all  thy  valiance  or  Lobkyn's  strength.  So, 
by  potency  of  my  spells  and  magic  are  we  quits, 
thou  and  I.  Bring,  then,  thy  rogue  outlaw  and 
haste  ye !" 

So  saying  the  old  Witch  muffled  her  awful,  fiery 
face  in  ragged  mantle  and  turned  away;  and  in 
that  moment  Robin  was  aware  of  three  forms  about 
him  in  the  grey  dawn-light,  felt  his  bonds  loosed 
off  by  quick,  strong  hands  and  drew  a  great,  joyous 
breath. 

"How,  Fool,  thou  brave  and  noble  Motley," 
quoth  he,  "is  it  thou  again  ?     And  I  to  live  ?" 

"Aye,  marry,  Robin!  But  come  apace,  the 
day  breaketh  and  the  city  is  astir  —  hark  to  yon 
shouts!     Follow!" 

So  with  the  Tanner  on  one  side  and  Lobkyn 
on  the  other,  Robin  ran,  hard  on  Jocelyn's  heels; 
and  ever  the  dawn  brightened  until  up  came  the 
sun  chasing  away  sullen  shadow  and  filling  street 
and  alley  with  his  glory. 

But  now,  and  just  as  they  reached  that  narrow 
street  where  safety  lay,  they  heard  a  shout,  a  scream, 
a  rush  of  feet  and  roar  of  fierce  voices  and  beheld, 
amid  a  surge  of  armed  men,  the  old  woman  struggling 
in  the  cruel  grip  of  Black  Lewin  who  (like  many 
others  I  wot  of,  my  Gill)  was  brave  enough  by  day- 
light. Vainly  the  old  creature  strove,  screaming 
for  mercy  as  Black  Lewin  whirled  aloft  his  sword; 
but  his  blade  clashed  upon  another  as  Jocelyn  sprang, 
and  for  a  while  the  air  rang  with  the  sound  of  fierce- 
smiting  steel  until,  throwing  up  his  arms,  Black 

114 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Lewin  fell  and  lay  there.  But,  roaring  vengeance, 
the  soldiery  closed  about  Jocelyn  who,  beset  by 
blows  on  every  side,  sank  in  turn,  yet,  even  as  he 
fell,  two  short  though  mighty  legs  bestrode  his 
prostrate  form  and  Lobkyn  Lollo,  whirling  huge 
club,  smote  down  the  foremost  assailant  and,  ever 
as  he  smote,  he  versified  and  chanted  —  thus  : 

"I'm  Lollo  hight, 

Brave  Lobkyn  Lollo,  I, 
I  'm  Lollo  hight, 
'T  is  my  delight 
By  day  or  night 
In  honest  fight 
With  main  and  might 
Good  blows  to  smite, 
And  where  they  light 
'T  is  sorry  plight 
For  that  poor  wight, 

Brave  Lobkyn  Lollo,  I. 

"Bows,  swords  and  staves, 
Come,  lusty  knaves, 
And  fit  for  graves 
Brave  Lobkyn  soon  will  make  ye ; 
So  fight,  say  I, 
Nor  turn  and  fly, 
Or,  when  ye  die, 
Then  may  old  Horny  take  ye." 

Fierce  raged  the  conflict,  but  in  that  narrow 
street  they  made  good  play  against  their  many 
assailants,  the  valiant  Dwarf's  mighty  club,  backed 
by  the  Tanner's  darting  pike  and  Robin's  flashing 
sword,  which  he  had  snatched  from  a  loosened  grasp. 
But  Jocelyn  lay  prone  upon  his  face,  between  Lob- 
kyn's  firm-planted  feet,  and  stirred  not.     So  club 

115 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

whirled,  sword  flashed  and  pike  darted  while,  high 
above  the  tumult,  rose  Lobkyn's  fierce  chant : 

"Hot  blood  I  quaff, 
At  death  I  laugh, 

Brave  Lobkyn  Lollo,  I. 
Come  all  that  may, 
And  all  I  '11  slay, 
And  teach  ye  how  to  die." 


«■ 


:Lob  —  Lobkyn!"  screamed  the  Witch.  "Thou 
that  drinkest  nought  but  milk  —  talk  not  of  blood, 
thou  naughty  poppet.  Back  now  —  stand  back, 
I  do  command  thee  !" 

Lobkyn  smote  a  man  to  earth  and,  sighing  regret- 
ful, stepped  aside. 

"Back!"   screamed   the   Witch.     "Stand   back,   I 

say,  all  three, 
And  leave  this  wicked  rabblement  to  me. 
Now  shall  they  learn  the  terror  of  my  curse, 
Black  magic  shall  they  feel  —  and  something  worse  ! " 

Then  uttered  she  a  sudden,  hideous  cry, 

And,  leaping,  whirled  her  bony  hands  on  high, 

And  lo !  a  choking  dust-cloud  filled  the  air, 

That  wreathed  in  whirling  eddies  here  and  there. 

"Perendewix  !"  she  cried.     "Om  Radzywin  — 
Thraxa !     Behold,  my  witchcraft  doth  begin!" 
Back  shrank  their  foes,  back  reeled  they  one  and 

all, 
They  choked,  they  gasped,  they  let  their  weapons 

fall; 
And  some  did  groan,  and  some  did  fiercely  sneeze, 
And  some  fell  prone,  some  writhed  upon  their  knees ; 

116 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Some  strove  to  wipe  the  tears  from  blinded  eyes, 
But  one  and  all  gave  voice  to  awful  cries. 

'  "Come!"  cried  the  Witch,  "to  the  door  —  the 
door.  Lobkyn,  bear  ye  the  brave  Fool  —  and 
tenderly  !  Haste,  naughty,  bantling,  haste  —  I  hear 
the  tread  of  more  soldiers  !" 

So  Lobkyn  stooped  and,  lifting  Jocelyn's  inani- 
mate form,  tucked  it  beneath  one  arm,  and  with 
Robin  and  Will  the  Tanner,  followed  the  old  Witch 
into  the  house. 

My  daughter  gillian  commandeth  : 


Gill: 


do; 


why    will    you    keep 
Witch    is    just    perfectly 
words    she    uses    for 


Myself 


Gill: 

Myself 


Gill: 


Go    on,    father, 

stopping  ? 
I    think    the    old 

topping. 
And    what    frightful 

curses ! 
Very  frightful,   indeed,   though  your  slang 

still  much  worse  is, 
With   your   "topping,"    "top-holing,"   your 

"swishing"  and  "clipping," 
Well,  I  merely  intended  to  say  it  was  ripping ; 

But,  if  you  object  to  my  praises 

I  only  object  to  your  phrases, 

For  there  's  no  author  but  will  own 

He  "liveth  not  by  bread  alone." 

As  for  myself,  if  what  I  write 

Doth    please  —  then   praise   with    all   your 

might. 
Well,  then,  the  Witch  is  splendid,  though 
I  'm  very  curious  to  know 
Just  how  her  face  all  fiery  grew, 
And  what  the  stuff  was  that  she  threw  — 
The  stuff  that  made  the  soldiers  sneeze 
And  brought  them  choking  to  their  knees 
It  sounds  as  though  it  might  be  snuff. 

117 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Myself  :  My  dear,  they  'd  not  found  out  such  stuff. 
But  grisly  witches  long  ago 
Did  many  strange  devices  know. 
Indeed,  my  Gill,  they  knew  much  more 
Than  wise  folk  gave  them  credit  for. 

Gill  :         Well,  what  was  it  ?     You  have  n't  said. 

Myself  :  I  '11  get  on  with  our  Geste  instead. 


118 


FYTTE  7 

That  telleth  to  the  patient  reader  nought, 

Save  how  the  Duke  was  to  the  wild-wood  brought. 


With  sleepy  eyes  Duke  Jocelyn  watched  afar, 
In  deep,  blue  void  a  solitary  star, 
That,  like  some  bright  and  wakeful  eye,  did  seem 
To  watch  him  where  he  lay  'twixt  sleep  and  dream. 
And,  as  he  viewed  it  winking  high  above, 
He  needs  must  think  of  Yolande  and  his  love, 
And  how,  while  he  this  twinkling  star  did  view, 
She,  wakeful  lying,  might  behold  it  too, 
Whereas  she  lay  a  spotless  maid  and  fair, 
Clothed  in  the  red-gold  glory  of  her  hair ; 
And,  thinking  thus,  needs  must  he  fondly  sigh, 
Then  frowned  to  hear  a  lusty  snore  hard  by  — 

and  looking  whence  came  this  sound,  the  Duke 
sat  up  and  ,his  wonder  grew ;  for  by  light  of  a  fire 
that  glowed  in  a  blackened  fissure  of  rock  he  beheld 
himself  couched  on  a  bed  of  bracken  within  a  roomy 
cave.  Beside  the  fire  leaned  a  mighty,  iron-shod 
club,  and  beyond  this,  curled  up  like  a  dog,  snored 
Lobkyn  Lollo,  the  Dwarf.  Hereupon  Jocelyn 
reached  out  and  shook  Lob  to  wakefulness,  who 
grunted  sleepily,  rubbed  his  eyes  drowsily  and 
yawned  mightily : 

Quoth  Jocelyn  :  Good  Dwarf,  where  am  I  ? 

Answered  Lobkyn  : 

Safe,  Fool,  safe  art  thou,  I  trow, 

Where  none  but  Lob  and  friends  do  know. 

II9 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Jocelyn  :  But  how  am  I  hither  ? 

Lobkyn  :    Why,  truly  thou  art  hither,  Fool, 

Because  thou  art  not  thither,  Fool !  > 
In  these  two  arms,  thy  life  to  save, 
I  bore  thee  to  this  goodly  cave. 

Jocelyn  :  How  may  one  of  thy  inches  bear  man  of 
mine  so  far  ? 

Lobkyn  :    Why,  Fool,  though  I  of  inches  lack, 

I  'm  mighty  strong,  both  arm  and  back, 
Thou  that  art  longer  man  than  me, 
Yet  I  am  stronger  man  than  thee, 
Though,  lusty  Fool,  big  fool  you  be, 
I  'd  bear  thee,  Fool,  if  thou  wert  three. 
And  mark,  Fool,  if  my  grammar  seemeth 

weak, 
Pray    license   it   since   I   in    verse   must 
speak. 

Jocelyn  :  And  pray  why  must  thou  speak  in  verse  ? 

Lobkyn  :    Nature  hath  on  me  laid  this  curse, 

And,  though  to  speak  plain  prose  I  yearn, 
My  prose  to  verse  doth  ever  turn. 
Therefore  I  grieve,  as  well  I  might, 
Because  of  my  poetic  plight  — 
Though  bards  and  rhymers  all  I  scorn, 
Alack  !  I  was  a  rhymer  born. 

Jocelyn  :  Alack  !  poor  Dwarf,  as  thou  must  versify, 
By  way  of  courtesy,  then,  so  will  I. 

Lobkyn  :    How,  Fool,  then  canst  thou  rhyme  ? 

Jocelyn  :  Aye,  Dwarf,  at  any  time  ! 
In  dark,  in  light, 
By  day,  by  night, 
Standing,  sitting, 
As  be  fitting, 
Verses  witty, 
Quaint  or  pretty, 
Incontinent  I  '11  find. 

120 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Verses  glad,  Dwarf, 

Verses  sad,  Dwarf, 

Every  sort,  Lob, 

Long  or  short,  Lob 

Or  verses  ill, 

Yet  verses  still 

Which  might  be  worse, 

I  can  rehearse 

When  I  'm  for  verse  inclined. 

So,  Lob,  first  speak  me  what  became 

Of  our  old  Witch,  that  potent  dame. 

Lobkyn  :    Why,  Fool,  in  faith  she  wrought  so  well 
With  direful  curse  and  blasting  spell 
That  every  howling  soldier-knave, 
Every  rogue  and  base-born  slave 
That  by  chance  I  did  not  slay, 
From  my  grand-dam  ran  away. 

Jocelyn  :  A  noble  Witch  !  Now,  Lobkyn,  tell 
What  hap'd  when  in  the  fight  I  fell, 
And  how  alive  I  chance  to  be. 

Lobkyn  :    Fool,  I  was  there  to  succour  thee. 

I  smote  those  pike-men  hip  and  thigh, 
That  they  did  mangled  pike-men  lie ; 
Their    arms,    their    legs,    their    skulls    I 

broke, 
Two,  three,  and  four  at  every  stroke. 
I  drave  them  here,  I  smote  them  there, 
I  smote,  I  slew,  I  none  did  spare, 
I  laughed,  I  sang,  I 

"Ha,  Lob!"  growled  a  sleepy  voice.  "Now,  as 
I  'm  a  tanner,  here  's  a-many  I's  !  By  Saint  Crispin, 
meseemeth  thou  'rt  all  I's  —  for  as  thou  fought  I 
fought,  or  thought  I  fought,  forsooth !  " 

121 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Lobkyn  :    True,  Will,  did'st  fight  in  goodly  manner, 
Though  fightedst,  Will,  like  any  tanner; 
But  I  did  fight,  or  I  'm  forsworn, 
Like  one  unto  the  manner  born. 
I  fought,  forsooth,  with  such  good  will, 
'T  is  marvel  I  'm  not  fighting  still. 
And  so  I  should  be,  by  my  fay, 
An  I  had  any  left  to  slay ; 
But  since  I  slew  them  all 

"Hold  there!"  cried  the  Tanner.  "I  slew  one 
or  two,  Lob,  and  Robin  likewise.  Thou  'rt  a  lusty 
fighter,  but  what  o'  me  and  Robin  —  ha,  what  o' 
we?" 

Lobkyn  :    In  faith,  ye  're  proper  men  and  tall, 

And  I  'm  squat  man,  my  stature  small, 
Nath'less,  though  small  and  squat  I  be, 
I  am  the  best  man  of  the  three. 

"Why,  as  to  that,"  quoth  the  Tanner,  "'tis  but 
you  says  so  !  As  to  me  I  think  what  I  will,  and  I  do 
think " 

But  here  Lobkyn  started  up  and  seized  the  great 
club ;  quoth  he  : 

"Hark  and  mark, 

Heard  ye  nought  there  i'  the  dark  ?  " 
"Not  I!"  answered  Will. 

"Methought  I  heard  an  owl  hoot,"  said  Jocelyn. 
"Aye,"  nodded  Lobkyn : 

"Aye,  Fool,  and  yet  this  owl  I  '11  swear, 
Hath  ne'er  a  feather  anywhere. 
This  owl  hath  ne'er  a  wing  to  fly, 
But  goes  afoot  like  thou  and  I. 

Now  mark, 

And  hark!" 

122 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Hereupon  the  Dwarf  laid  finger  to  lip  and  uttered 
an  owl-cry  so  dismal,  so  tremulous  and  withal 
so  true  to  nature  that  it  was  wonder  to  hear.  In- 
stantly, from  the  dimness  beyond  the  cavern- 
mouth,  the  cry  was  repeated,  and  presently  was 
heard  a  panting  and  'plaining,  a  snuffling  and  a 
shuffling,  and  into  the  light  of  the  fire  hobbled  the 
old  Witch.  Beholding  Jocelyn  sitting  cross-legged 
on  his  couch  of  fern,  she  paused  and,  leaning  on  her 
crooked  stick,  viewed  him  with  her  wise,  old  eyes. 

"Aha,  Motley!"  she  croaked.  "Oho,  thou 
flaunting  jackanapes,  didst  peril  thy  foolish  flesh 
for  me  that  am  poor  and  old  and  feeble,  and  cursed 
by  all  for  witchcraft !  So  have  I  with  my  potions 
ministered  to  thee  in  thy  sickness,  and  behold 
thou  'rt  alive,  hale  and  strong  again.  Give  me  thy 
hand  !  Aha,  here  's  cool,  unfevered  blood  !  Show 
me  thy  tongue.  Oho !  Aha !  A  little  sup  o'  my 
black  decoction  —  roots  gathered  at  full  o'  moon 
—  a  little  sup  and  shall  be  thyself  by  to-morrow's 
dawn.  But — as  for  thee,  thou  good-for-naught,  thou 
wicked  elf  —  aha  !  would'st  dare  leave  thy  poor  old 
grannam  weak  and  'fenceless  ?  Give  me  thy  rogue- 
ear  ! "  Obediently,  the  mighty  Dwarf  arose  and  sigh- 
fully  suffered  the  old  woman  to  grasp  him  by  the  ear 
and  to  tweak  and  wring  and  twist  it  as  she  would. 

"What  dost  thou  here  i'  the  wild- wood,  thou 
imp,  thou  poppet  o'  plagues,  thou  naughty  wap- 
de-staldees  ?  " 

To  which  Lobkyn,  writhing  and  watering  at  the 
eyes,  answered  thus : 

"Stay,  prithee  grannam,  loose  thy  hold  ! 
I  would  but  be  an  outlaw  bold, 
An  outlaw  fierce  that  men  shall  fear  — 
Beseech  thee,  grand-dam,  loose  mine  ear!" 

123 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"An  outlaw,  naughty  one!"  screeched  the  Witch, 
tweaking  ear  the  harder.     "Dare  ye  tell  me  so,  elf  ?" 

Lobkyn  :  Aye,  grand-dam  —  cuff  me  an  ye  will, 
Nath'less  an  outlaw  I  '11  be  still, 
And  many  a  wicked  rogue  I  '11  kill  — 
O  grand-dam,  loose  mine  ear  ! 
And  day  and  night  I  '11  slay  until 
All  rogues  my  name  do  fear. 

For  grand-dam,  I  'm  a  fighter  —  O, 

Beseech  thee,  let  my  ear  go ! 

And  bones  shall  crack  and  blood  shall  flow, 

If  any  dare  resist  me. 

And  all  the  world  my  name  shall  know, 

Pray  by  the  ear  don't  twist  me ! 

All  men  before  my  club  shall  fly, 
All  on  their  knees  shall  "mercy"  cry, 
Or  mangled  in  their  gore  shall  lie  — 
Ah,  grand-dam,  pray  don't  clout  me ! 
Don't  beat  me,  grannam  dear,  but  try 
To  do  awhile  without  me 

"Without  thee,  thou  piece  o'  naughtiness?" 
screamed  the  old  woman.  "Now  will  I  lay  my 
stick  about  thee  —  hold  still,  Rogue  ! " 

Saying  which,  she  proceeded  to  belabour  the 
poor  Dwarf  with  her  knotted  stick,  clutching  him 
fast  by  his  ear  the  while.  Thus  she  be-thwacked 
him  soundly  until  he  roared  for  mercy. 

"Why,  how  now  —  how  now?"  cried  a  merry 
voice,  and  Robin  strode  into  the  firelight.  "Gentle 
Witch,  sweet  dame,"  quoth  he,  "what  do  ye  with 
poor  Lob  ?  " 

"Thwack  him  shrewdly !" 

'Which  is,  Witch,  that  which  none  but  witch 
the  like  o'  thee  might  do,  for  lustier  fighter  and 

124 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

mightier  dwarf  never  was.  Thus,  but  for  thy  witch- 
like witcheries,  the  which,  Witch,  witch  do  prove 
thee,  but  for  this  and  the  power  and  potency  of  thy 
spells,  now  might  he  crack  out  thy  life  'twixt  finger 
and  thumb " 

"  Ha,  forest-rogue,  't  is  a  bad  brat,  a  very  naughty 
elf  would  rim  off  into  the  wild  to  be  rogue  like  thee 
—  an  outlaw,  forsooth  !" 

"Forsooth,  Witch,"  laughed  Robin,  "outlaw  is  he 
in  very  truth,  in  sooth  and  by  my  troth !  Outlaw 
is  Lob,  banned  by  Church  and  Council  of  Ten,  and 
so  proclaimed  i'  the  market  square  of  Canalise  this 
very  morn  by  sound  o'  trumpet  and " 

"How?  How?"  cried  the  old  woman,  wringing 
her  trembling  hands.  "My  Lobkyn  outlawed? 
My  babe,  my  lovely  brat,  my  pretty  bantling,  woe 
and  alas  !     My  dear  ugly  one  an  outlaw?" 

"Aye,  marry  is  he,  Witch,  outlaw  proclaimed, 
acclaimed,  announced,  pronounced  and  denounced ; 
as  such  described,  ascribed  and  proscribed  by  Master 
Gregory  Bax,  the  port-reeve,  for  the  late  slaying 
and  maiming  of  divers  of  the  city  guard.  So  outlaw 
is  Lobkyn,  his  life  henceforth  forfeit  even  as  mine." 

"My  Lobkyn  an  hairy  outlaw  i'  the  wild- wood ! 
Out  alas !  And  what  of  his  poor  old  grannam  ? 
What  o' me ?" 

"Content  thee,  sweet  hag,  since  thou 'rt  out- 
lawed along  with  him  and,  as  witch,  doomed  to  die 
unpleasantly  by  fire  and  flame  and  faggot,  if  thou  'rt 
caught." 

"Alack!  Wala-wa !  Woe  's  me!"  groaned  the 
Witch,  cracking  her  finger-bones.  "And  all  this 
by  reason  o'  the  Fool  yonder." 

'Why,  the  Fool  is  dubbed  outlaw  likewise, 
Witch,"  quoth  Robin.  "Outlaw  is  he  along  o'  thee 
and  Tanner  Will." 

125 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"And  all  by  reason  that  this  Fool  must  needs 
peril  our  lives  for  sake  of  rogue-outlaw,  of  forest- 
robber,  of  knavish  woodland-lurker " 

"Hight  Robin!"  laughed  Robin,  leaning  on 
his  long  bow-stave.  "Now,  this  brave  Fool  having 
saved  Robin  his  life,  Witch,  the  which,  Witch,  was 
good  thing  for  Robin,  our  Fool  next  saved  thee, 
Witch,  which  was  nought  to  Robin,  in  the  which, 
Witch,  Robin  did  not  joy;  for  thou,  old  Witch, 
being  witch,  art  therefore  full  o'  witcheries  which  be 
apt  to  be-devil  a  man  and  fright  his  reason,  for 
the  which  reason,  being  reasonable  man,  I  reason, 
for  this  reason,  that,  so  reasoning,  I  love  thee  not. 
But  thou  art  old,  Witch,  which  is  good  reason  to 
reasonably  reason  thou  art  wise,  Witch,  and,  being 
wise,  I  on  this  wise  would  seek  counsel  of  thy  wis- 
dom, Witch.     Imprimis,  then " 

"Hold  !"  commanded  the  Witch;  "here's  a  whirl 
o'  windy  wind!     Hast  more  of  such-like,  forester?" 

"Some  little,  Witch,  which  I  will  now,  Witch " 

"Nay,  then,  Robin-a-Green,  suffer  me  to  rest 
my  old  bones  whiles  thy  mill  clacks."  Hereupon 
the  old  Witch  seated  herself  beside  the  fire,  with 
bony  knees  up-drawn  to  bony  chin.  "Speak,  out- 
law Robin,"  she  croaked,  blinking  her  red  eyes, 
"and  speak  ye  plain." 

"Why,  then,  wise  Witch,  look  'ee :  since  we  be  out- 
laws each  and  every,  with  all  men's  hands  against 
us,  with  none  to  succour,  and  death  watchful  for 
us,  't  is  plain,  and  very  plain,  we,  for  our  harbourage 

and  defence,  must  in  the  wild-wood  bide " 

Ho  !"  cried  Lobkyn  : 

"It  soundeth  good, 
The  brave  wild-wood, 
Where  flowers  do  spring 

126 


«<■ 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  birds  do  sing. 
To  slay  the  deer 
And  make  good  cheer, 
With  mead  and  beer, 
The  livelong  year, 
And " 

"Roar  not,  toad  !"  cried  the  Witch.  "Say  on  — 
Rogue-Robin !" 

"Why,  mark  me,  good  Witch,  here 's  where 
buskin  chafeth !  Not  long  since  I  ruled  i'  the 
wild-wood,  a  very  king,  with  ten-score  lusty  out- 
law-rogues to  do  my  will.  To-day  is  there  never 
an  one,  and  for  this  reasonable  reason  —  to  wit, 
I  am  hanged,  and,  being  hanged,  am  dead,  and, 
being  dead,  am  not,  and  thus  Robin  is  nobody; 
and  yet  again,  perceive  me,  Witch,  being  Robin, 
I  am  therefore  somebody ;  thus  is  nobody  some- 
body, and  yet  somebody  that  nobody  will  believe 
anybody.  The  which,  Witch,  is  a  parlous  case, 
methinks,  for  here  am  I,  somebody,  nobody  and 
Robin  altogether  and  at  the  same  time;  therefore, 
Witch,  o'  thy  witchful  wisdom  —  who  am  I,  what 
and  which,  Witch ?" 

Here  the  Witch  blinked  and  mowed,  and  cracked 
her  finger-bones  one  after  another.     Quoth  she : 

"For  thy  first,  thou  'rt  thyself;  for  the  second, 
a  rogue ;  and  for  the  third,  a  wind-bag.  I  would 
thy  second  might  tie  up  thy  first  in  thy  third." 

"So  should  Robin  choke  Robin  with  Robin. 
But  hark  'ee  again,  good,  patient  dame.  It  seemeth 
that  Ranulph  the  executioner  betaketh  him  at 
cock-crow  to  hang  poor  me;  but,  finding  me  not, 
made  great  outcry,  insomuch  that  the  city  guard, 
such  as  mighty  Lob  and  Will  had  left  alive,  sought 
counsel   together;    and   taking   one   of   their   slain 

127 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

fellows,  Ranulph  hanged  him  in  my  stead,  and  there 
he  hangeth  now,  above  the  city  gate,  his  face  so 
marred  that  he  might  be  me  or  any  other." 

"Ha,  Robin  — well?" 

"This  day,  at  sunset,  came  I  unto  the  trysting- 
oak,  and  by  blast  of  horn  summoned  me  my  out- 
law company.  They  came  apace  and  in  great 
wonderment,  for,  seeing  me,  they  fell  to  great  awe 
and  dread,  thinking  me  dead,  since  many  had  seen 
my  body  a-dangle  on  the  gallows ;  wherefore,  see- 
ing me  manifestly  alive,  they  took  me  for  ghoulish 
ghost  'stead  o'  good  flesh  and  blood,  and  fled  from 
me  amain.  So,  by  reason  of  my  dead  body,  that 
is  no  body  o'  mine,  yet  that  nobody  will  believe 
is  no  body  o'  mine,  they. believe  that  this  my  body 
is  yet  no  body,  but  a  phantom ;  the  which  is  out 
of  reason ;  yet  thus  unreasonably  do  the  rogues 
reason  by  reason  of  the  body  that  hangeth  in  place 
of  my  body  above  the  city  gate.  Wherefore  I  reason 
there  is  yet  reason  in  their  unreason,  seeing  this  body 
was  somebody,  yet  no  body  o'  mine,  but  which 
nobody  among  them  can  swear  to.  Which,  Witch, 
is  a  matter  which  none  but  wise  witch  may  counsel 
me  in.     How  say'st  thou,  Witch  ?  " 

But  for  a  while  the  old  Witch  scowled  on  the 
fire,  bony  chin  on  bony  knees,  and  dreamily  cracked 
her  finger-joints. 

"Oho!"  she  cried  suddenly.  "Aha  —  a  body 
that  nobody's  is,  yet  body  that  everybody  knoweth 
for  body  o'  thine  —  aha !  So  must  nobody  know 
that  nobody's  body  is  not  thy  body.  Dost  see  my 
meaning,  Robin-a-Green  ?  " 

"No  whit,  Witch!  Thou  growest  involved,  thy 
talk  diffuse,  abstruse  and  altogether  beyond  one 
so  obtuse  as  simple  Rob " 

'Then   hark   'ee  again,   Addlepate !     Everybody 

128 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

must  believe  nobody's  body  thy  body,  so  by  dead 
body  will  I  make  thy  live  body  of  so  great  account 
to  everybody  that  nobody  henceforth  shall  doubt 
dead  body  made  live  body,  by  my  witchcraft,  and 
thou  be  feared,  therefore,  of  everybody.  Dost 
follow  me  now,  numskull?" 

"Aye,  truly,  mother!  And  truly  't  is  a  rare 
subtlety,  a  notable  wile,  and  thou  a  right  cunning 
witch  and  wise.     But  how  wilt  achieve  this  wonder  ?  " 

"Since  dead  thou  art,  I  to  life  will  bring  thee. 
Oho,  I  will  summon  thee  through  fire  and  flame; 
aha,  I  will  make  thee  more  dreaded  than  heretofore ; 
thy  fame  shall  fill  the  wild-wood  and  beyond. 
Know'st  thou  the  Haunted  Wood,  hard  by  Thraxby 
Waste?" 

Now  here  Robin's  merry  smile  languished,  and 
he  rubbed  nose  with  dubious  finger. 

"Aye,  I  do,"  quoth  he  sombrely  ;  "an  ill  place  and 
—  demon-rid,  they  say ': 

"Come  ye  there  to-morrow  at  midnight." 

"Alone?"  says  Robin,  starting. 

"Alone!" 

"Nay,  good  Witch,  most  gentle,  potent  dame,  I  — 
though  phantom  accounted,  I  love  not  phantoms, 
and  Thraxby  Waste " 

"Come  ye  there  —  at  midnight !" 

"Why,  then,  good  Witch,  an  come  I  must,  suffer 
that  I  bring  the  valiant  Fool  and  mighty  Lob  — 
prithee,  now !" 

At  this  the  old  Witch  scowled  and  mumbled- 
and  crackled  her  finger-bones  louder  than  ever. 

"Oho!"  cried  she  at  last,  "thou  great  child, 
afraid-o'-the-dark,  bring  these  an  ye  will  —  but 
none  other !" 

"Good  mother,  I  thank  thee !" 

"Tchak!"   cried   the   Witch,   and,   struggling  to 

129 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

her  feet,  hobbled  to  Jocelyn  and  laid  bony  finger 
on  wrist  and  brow,  nodded,  mumbled,  and  so, 
bent  on  her  staff,  hobbled  away ;  but,  reaching  the 
cave-mouth,  she  paused,  and  smote  stick  to  earth 
fiercely. 

"To-morrow!"       she       croaked.         "Midnight! 
Re member !" 


I30 


FYTTE  8 

Tells  how  the  Witch,  with  incantations  dire, 
In  life  to  life  brought  Robin  through  the  fire. 


The  wind  was  cold  —  indeed  't  was  plaguy  chill  — 
That  furtive  crept  and  crept,  like  something  ill 
Stealing  with  dreadful  purpose  in  the  dark, 
With  scarce  a  sound  its  stealthy  course  to  mark ; 
WThile  pallid  moon  did  seem  to  swoon,  as  though 
It  ghastly  things  beheld  on  earth  below ; 
And  Robin  gripped  the  good  sword  by  his  side, 
And  Joc'lyn  looked  about  him  watchful-eyed ; 
While  Lobkyn  Lollo  felt  and  looked  the  bolder 
By  reason  of  the  club  across  his  shoulder. 

"Here,"    whispered    Robin,    peering    through    the 

gloom, 
"Is  dismal  place,  I  Ve  heard,  of  death  and  doom. 
Here  do  be  ghosts  and  goblins,  so  't  is  said, 

Demons,  phantoms,  spectres  of  the  dead " 

"Aye,  verily,"  quoth  Lob,  "and  what  is  worse, 
'T  is  here  my  grand-dam  oft  doth  come  to  curse, 
And  haunteth  it  with  spiteful  toads  and  bats, 
With  serpents  fell,  with  ewts  and  clawful  cats. 
Here  doth  she  revel  hold  o'  moony  nights, 
With    grave-rank    ghouls    and    moaning    spectral 

sprites ; 
And  .  .  .  Saints !  what 's  that  ? 
A  hook- winged  bat  ? 

Not  so ;  perchance,  within  its  hairy  body  fell 
Is  man  or  maid  transformed  by  magic  spell. 

131 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

0,  brothers,  heedful  be,  and  careful  tread 
Lest  magic  gin  should  catch  and  strike  us  dead ! 
O  would  my  grannam  might  go  with  us  here. 
Since,  being  witch,  she  doth  no  witchcraft  fear." 

So  came  the  three  at  last  to  Haunted  Wood, 
Where  mighty  trees  in  gloomy  grandeur  stood, 
Their  wide-flung  boughs  so  closely  interweaving 
Scarce     space     between     for     ghostly     moonbeams 

leaving ; 
But,  snake-like,  round  each  other  closely  twined, 
In  shuddering  wind  did  mournful  voices  find, 
And,  groaning,  writhed  together  to  and  fro 
Like  souls  that  did  the  fiery  torment  know. 
Thus,  in  the  wood,  't  was  dark  and  cold  and  dank, 
And  breathed  an  air  of  things  long  dead  and  rank; 
While  shapes,  dim-seen,  did  creep  and  flit  and  fly 
With  sudden  squeak,  and  bodeful,  wailing  cry. 

At  last  they  reached  a  clearing  in  the  wood, 
Where,  all  at  once,  as  'mid  the  leaves  they  stood, 
From  Lobkyn's  lips,  loud,  tremulous,  and  high, 
There  rose  and  swelled  the  owlet's  shuddering  cry. 
Scarce  on  the  air  this  dismal  sound  had  died, 
When  they  the  Witch's  hobbling  form  espied. 
Beholding  Robin,  by  the  arm  she  caught  him, 
And  to  a  place  of  rocks  in  haste  she  brought  him ; 
And  here,  where  bosky  thickets  burgeoned  round, 
She  pointed  to  a  chasm  in  the  ground. 

"Go  down!"   she  hissed.     "Go  down,   thou  thing 

of  clay, 
Thou  that  art  dead  —  into  thy  grave  I  say. 
Since  thou  'rt  hanged,  a  dead  man  shalt  thou  be 
Till    from    thy    grave    my    spells    shall    summon 

thee " 

132 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"My  grave?"   gasped  Robin,   blenching  from  her 

frown. 
"Aye,  Rogue!"  she  croaked.     "Behold  thy  grave! 

Go  down  !" 
So  shiv'ring  Robin,  in  most  woeful  plight, 
Crept  into  gloom  and  vanished  from  their  sight. 
"O,  Robin,  Robin!"  the  old  Witch  softly  cried, 
"Alack,  I  'm  here !"  faint  voice,  below,  replied. 
'Thou   dead,"  croaked   she,   "thou   ghostly   shade 

forlorn, 
From  charnel-vault  sound  now  thy  spectral  horn, 
Sound  now  thy  rallying-note,  then  silent  be 
Till  from  thy  mouldering  tomb  I  summon  thee ! " 

Now,  on  the  stillness  rose  the  ghostly  sound 

Of  Robin's  hunting  horn  that  through  the  ground 

Rang  thin  and  high,  unearthly-shrill  and  clear, 

That  thrilled  the  shivering  woodland  far  and  near, 

And  shuddering  to  silence,  left  behind 

A  whisper  as  of  leaves  in  stealthy  wind. 

A  rustling  'mid  the  underbrush  they  heard 

Where,    in    the    gloom    about    them,    dim    things 

stirred  — 
Vague,  stealing  shapes  that  softly  nearer  drew, 
Till  from  the  tree-gloom  crept  a  ragged  crew, 
Wild  men  and  fierce,  a  threatening,  grimly  herd, 
Who  stood  like  shadows,  speaking  not  a  word ; 
And  the  pale  moon  in  fitful  flashes  played 
On  sword  and  headpiece,  pike  and  broad  axe-blade. 
While  the  old  hag,  o'er  witch-fire  crouching  low, 
Puffed  at  the  charcoal  till  it  was  aglow ; 
Then  hobbling  round  and  round  her  crackling  fire, 
She  thus  began  her  incantations  dire : 


-o' 


Come  ye  long-dead, 
Ye  spirits  dread, 

133 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Ye  things  of  quaking  fear, 

Ye  poor,  lost  souls, 

Ye  ghosts,  ye  ghouls, 

Haxwiggin  bids  ye  here  ! 

By  one  by  two,  by  two  by  three, 

Spirits  of  Night,  I  summon  ye, 

By  three  by  four,  by  four  by  five, 

Come  ye  now  dead  that  were  alive, 

Come  now  I  bid  ye 

From  grave-clods  rid  ye, 

Come ! 
From  South  and  North, 
I  bid  ye  forth, 
From  East,  from  West, 
At  my  behest  — 

Come ! 
Come  great,  come  small, 
Come  one,  come  all, 
Heed  ye  my  call, 
List  to  my  call,  I  say, 
From  pitchy  gloom 
Of  mouldered  tomb 
Here  find  ye  room 
For  sport  and  holiday. 
Come  grisly  ghosts  and  goblins  pale, 
Come  spirits  black  and  grey, 
Ye  shrouded  spectres  —  Hail,  O  Hail ! 
Ho  !  't  is  your  holiday. 

Come  wriggling  snakes 

From  thorny  brakes, 
Hail ! 

Come  grimly  things 

With  horny  wings, 

That  flit,  that  fly, 

That  croak,  that  cry, 
Hail! 

134 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Come  ghouls,  come  demons  one  and  all, 
Here  revel  whiles  ye  may ; 
Ye  noisome  things  that  creep  and  crawl, 
Come,  sport  and  round  me  play. 
Ho,  claw  and  wing  and  hoof  and  horn, 
Here  revel  till  the  clammy  dawn. 

"Peeping,  creeping, 
Flying,  crying, 
Fighting,  biting, 
Groaning,  moaning, 
Ailing,  wailing, 
Spirits  fell, 
Come  to  my  spell, 
Ho  !  't  is  your  holiday  ! 
So,  are  ye  there, 
High  up  in  air, 
The  moonbeams  riding 
'Mid  shadows  hiding  ? 

"Now  gather  round,  ye  spectral  crew, 
This  night  have  we  brave  work  to  do  — 
Bold  Robin  o'  the  Green,  't  is  said, 
On  gallows  hangeth  cold  and  dead 

Beneath  the  sky 

On  gibbet  high, 
They  in  a  noose  did  swing  him. 

Go,  goblins,  go, 

And  ere  thev  know, 
Unto  me  hither  bring  him." 

Here  paused  the  Witch  to  mend  her  glowing  fire, 
While  each  man  to  his  neighbour  shuffled  nigher, 
As  witch-flame  leapt  and  ever  brighter  grew, 
Till,  to  their  horror,  sudden  it  burned  blue ; 
Whereat  each  silent,  fearful  beholder 
Felt  in  the  gloom  to  touch  his  fellow's  shoulder, 

135 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Yet,  in  that  moment,  knew  an  added  dread 
To  see  the  fire  from  blue  turn  ghastly  red ; 
Then,  as  the  Witch  did  o'er  it  crooning  lean, 
Behold !  it  changed  again  to  baleful  green. 
Whereat  the  Witch  flung  bony  arms  on  high, 
As  though  with  claw-like  hands  she  'd  rend  the  sky ; 
And  while  the  lurid  flames  leapt  ever  higher, 
She  thus  invoked  the  Spirit  of  the  Fire. 

"As  fire  doth  change,  yet,  changed,  unchanged  doth 

burn, 
By  fiery  spell  shall  dead  to  life  return ! 

"Ho,  goblins  yonder  —  'neath  the  moon, 
Have  ye  brought  me  the  dead  so  soon  ? 
Ha !  is  it  Robin  that  ye  bring, 
That  pale,  that  stiff,  that  clammy  thing  ? 
Now  work  we  spell  with  might  and  main, 
Shall  make  it  live  and  breathe  again. 

"Now  in  and  out, 
And  round  about, 
Ye  wriggling  rout, 
With  hoof  and  claw  and  wing ; 
Now  high,  now  low, 
Now  fast,  now  slow, 
Now  to  and  fro 
Tread  we  a  magic  ring. 

"  Thus,  while  the  frighted  moon  doth  peep, 
We  '11  wake  this  cold,  dead  thing  from  sleep, 
Till  Robin  back  to  life  shall  leap. 
And  when  he  from  the  fire  shall  spring, 
Ye  outlaws  hail  him  for  your  King. 

"For  on  that  wight 
Who,  day  or  night, 

136 


BSEitij  im'gljtg  baimo,  boll)  Uolim  U\ipinrj  came. 

|?agt  137 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Shall  Robin  disobey 
With  purpose  fell 
I'll  cast  a  spell 
Shall  wither  him  away. 

"Ho,  Robin !  Ope  thy  death-cold  eyes, 
Ho,  Robin  !     From  thy  grave  arise, 

Ho,  Robin  !  Robin,  ho  ! 
Robin  that  doth  bide  so  near  me, 
Robin,  Robin,  wake  and  hear  me, 
Ho,  Robin  !  Robin,  ho  ! 

"Back  to  life  I  summon  thee, 
Through  the  fire  thy  path  must  be, 
Through  the  fire  that  shall  not  harm  thee, 
Through  flame  that  back  to  life  shall  charm  thee, 
Shall  warm  thy  body  all  a-cold, 
And  make  grim  Death  loose  clammy  hold. 

Ho,  Robin-a-Green, 

Ho,  Robin-a-Green, 
Leap  back  to  life  by  all  men  seen ! " 

Through  curling  smoke-wreaths  and  through  writh- 
ing flame, 
With  mighty  bound,  bold  Robin  leaping  came, 
And  by  the  Witch  did  in  the  fire-light  stand, 
Sword  by  his  side  and  bugle-horn  in  hand, 
And  laughed  full  blithe  as  he  was  wont  to  do, 
And,  joyous,  hailed  his  wild  and  ragged  crew : 

"What  lads,  are  ye  there  forsooth?  Is  't  Myles 
I  see  with  lusty  Watt  and  John  and  Hal  o'  the 
Quarterstaff  ?  God  den  t'  ye,  friends,  and  merry 
hunting  to  one  and  all,  for  by  oak  and  ash  and  thorn 
here  stand  I  to  live  with  thee,  aye,  good  lads,  and  to 
die  with  ye  here  in  the  good  greenwood " 

137 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

But  now  and  all  at  once  from  that  grim  and  silent 
company  a  mighty  shout  went  up  : 

"  'T  is  Robin  —  't  is  Robin,  't  is  bold  Robin-a- 
Green  !     'T  is  our  Robin  himself  come  back  to  us  !" 

And  fearful  no  longer,  they  hasted  to  him  and 
clasped  him  in  brawny  arms,  hugging  him  mightily 
and  making  great  rejoicing  over  him. 


iS8 


FYTTE  9 

That  tells  almost  as  fully  as  it  should, 
The  joys  of  living  in  the  good  greenwood. 


Deep-hidden  in  the  trackless  wild  the  outlaws 
had  made  them  a  haven  of  refuge,  a  camp  remote 
and  well  sequestered.  Here  were  mossy,  fern-clad 
rocks  that  soared  aloft,  and  here  green  lawns  where 
ran  a  blithesome  brook ;  it  was  indeed  a  very  pleasant 
place  shut  in  by  mighty  trees.  Within  this  leafy 
boskage  stood  huts  of  wattle,  cunningly  wrought; 
beneath  the  steep  were  many  caves  carpeted  with 
dried  fern  and  fragrant  mosses,  while  everywhere, 
above  and  around,  the  trees  spread  mighty  boughs, 
through  which  the  sun  darted  golden  beams  be- 
dappling  the  sward,  and  in  whose  leafy  mysteries 
the  birds  made  joyous  carolling. 

And  here  beneath  bending  willows  arched  over 
this  merry  brook,  one  sun-bright  morning  riotous 
with  song  of  birds,  sat  Jocelyn  with  Robin  a-sprawl 
beside  him. 

"O  brother,"  says  Robin,  "O  brother,  't  is  a  fair 
place  the  greenwood,  a  fair,  sweet  place  to  live  — 
aye,  or  to  die  in  methinks,  this  good  greenwood, 
whereof  I  have  made  a  song  —  hark  'ee  !  * 

"Oho,  it  is  a  right  good  thing 
When  trees  do  bud  and  flowers  do  spring 
All  in  the  wood,  the  fair,  green  wood, 
To  hear  the  birds  so  blithely  sing, 
Adown,  adown,  hey  derry  down, 
All  in  the  good,  green  wood. 

139 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"  Who  cometh  here  leaves  grief  behind, 
Here  broken  man  hath  welcome  kind, 
All  in  the  wood,  the  fair,  green  wood. 
The  hopeless  here  new  hope  may  find, 
Adown,  adown,  hey  derry  down, 
All  in  the  kind,  green  wood. 

"  Ho,  friend,  't  is  pleasant  life  we  lead, 
No  laws  have  we,  no  laws  we  need 
Here  i'  the  good,  green  wood. 
For  every  man  's  a  man  indeed, 
Adown,  adown,  hey  derry  down, 
Here  i'  the  good,  green  wood. 

"All  travellers  that  come  this  way 
Must  something  in  fair  tribute  pay 
Unto  the  wood,  the  fair,  green  wood. 
Or  here  in  bonds  is  like  to  stay, 
Adown,  adown,  hey  derry  down, 
Lost  i'  the  good,  green  wood. 

"Full  many  a  lord,  in  boastful  pride, 
This  tribute,  scornful,  hath  denied 
Unto  the  wood,  the  fair,  green  wood. 
And  thereupon  hath  sudden  died, 
Adown,  adown,  hey  derry  down, 
All  in  the  fair,  green  wood. 

"And  when  our  time  shall  come  to  die 
Methinks  we  here  may  softly  lie 
Deep  in  the  fair,  green  wood. 
With  birds  to  sing  us  lullaby, 
Adown,  adown,  hey  derry  down, 
All  in  the  good,  green  wood." 

"So  there  it  is,  brother  —  and  life  and  death  in  a 
nutshell,  as  'twere.  Now,  wherefore  wilt  not  join 
us  and  turn  outlaw,  good  Fool  ?  " 

140 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"For  that  I  am  a  fool  belike,  Robin.  Howbeit, 
I  'm  better  Fool  than  outlaw." 

"Say,  rather,  greater  fool,  Fool,  for  foresters'  life 
is  better  than  life  o'  folly,  and  payeth  better  to 
boot,  what  with  booty  —  ha  !  Moreover,  I  do  love 
thee,  since,  Fool,  though  fool,  art  wise  in  counsel 
and  valiant  beyond  thought  —  so  't  is  I  would  not 
lose  thee.  Stay,  therefore,  and  live  my  comrade  and 
brother,  equal  with  me  in  all  things.  How  say'st 
thou?" 

'Why,  Robin,  I  say  this:  True  friendship  is  a 
goodly  thing  and  a  rare  in  this  world,  and,  therefore, 
to  be  treasured  ;  't  is  thing  no  man  may  buy  or  seek, 
since  itself  is  seeker  and  cometh  of  itself ;  't  is  a 
prop  —  a  staff  in  stony  ways,  a  shield  'gainst  foes, 
a  light  i'  the  dark.  So  do  I  love  friendship,  Robin, 
and  thou  'rt  my  friend,  yet  must  leave  thee,  though 
friendship  shall  abide." 

Quoth  Robin  :  How  abide  an  we  be  parted  ? 

"In  heart  and  mind  and  memory,  Robin.  More- 
over, though  I  go,  yet  will  I  return  anon,  an  life  be 


mine." 


"And  wherefore  go  ye,  brother?" 

"First  to  seek  my  comrade." 

'Thy  comrade  —  ha  !  I  mind  him,  a  fierce  great 
fellow  with  hawk's  beak  and  a  fighting  eye.  And 
whither  trend  ye?" 

"To  Canalise." 

"Art  crazed,  brother?  'Tis  there  death  waiteth 
thee!" 

'Yet  must  I  go,  Robin,  since  there  my  heart 
waiteth  me." 

"A  maid,  brother?" 

"A  maid,  Robin." 

"Heigho!  So  wilt  thou  go,  come  joy,  come  pain, 
come  life  or  death,  since  a  maid  is  made  to  make 

141 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

man  saint  or  devil,  some  days  glad  and  some  days* 
sad,  but  ever  and  always  a  fool.  And  thou  art  Fool 
by  profession,  and,  being  lover  professed  and  con- 
fessed, art  doubly  a  fool ;  and  since,  good  Folly, 
love  's  but  folly  and  thou,  a  Fool,  art  deep  in  folly, 
so  is  thy  state  most  melancholy." 

"And  dost  think  love  so  great  folly,  Robin?" 
said  a  soft  voice,  and,  looking  round,  they  beheld 
the  lovely,  dark-tressed  Melissa,  who  viewed  them 
bright-eyed  and  pouted  red  mouth,  frowning  a  little. 

"Aye,  verily,  lady,"  laughed  Robin,  as  she  sank 
on  the  grass  beside  them.  "Forsooth,  'tis  a  mad- 
ness fond.  For  see,  now,  a  man  being  in  love  is 
out  of  all  else." 

"As  how,  Sir  Outlaw?" 

"Marry,  on  this  wise  —  when  man's  in  love  he 
mopeth  apart  and  is  ill  company,  so  is  he  out  o* 
friends ;  he  hangeth  humble  head  abashed,  so  is 
he  out  o'  countenance ;  he  uttereth  frequent,  windy, 
sighful  suspirations,  so  is  he  out  o'  breath;  he 
lavisheth  lucre  on  his  love,  so  is  he  out  o'  pocket; 
he  forsweareth  food,  despiseth  drink,  scorneth  sleep, 
so  is  he  out  o'  health  —  in  fine,  he  is  out  of  all  things, 
so  is  he  out  of  himself ;  therefore  he  is  mad,  and  so 
may  go  hang  himself  !" 

Melissa  :  And  hast  thou  loved,  Robin  ? 

Robin  :  Ever  and  always,  and  none  but  Robin ! 

Melissa  :  And  none  more  worthy,  Robin  ? 

Robin  :  And  none  more,  as  I  am  worthy  Robin. 

Melissa  :  Lovest  thou  not  Love,  Robin  ? 

Robin  :  Love,  love  not  I. 

Melissa  :  Then  Love  canst  thou  know  not. 

Robin  :  Then  if  I  love  Love  for  Love's  sake,  must 
Love  then  love  me,  therefore  ? 

Melissa  :  If  thy  love  for  Love  be  true  love,  so 
shall  Love  love  thee  true. 

142 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Robin  :  Then  if  Love  should  love  me  for  my  sake, 
then  would  I  love  Love  for  Love's  sake ;  but  since 
Love  ne'er  hath  sought  me  for  my  sake,  ne'er  will  I 
seek  Love  for  Love's  sake  for  my  sake,  since  Love, 
though  plaguy  sweet,  is  a  sweet  plague,  I  judge  and, 
so  judging,  will  by  my  judgment  stand. 

Melissa  :  And  how  think  you,  Sir  Fool  ? 

Jocelyn  :  I  think  if  Love  find  Robin  and  Robin, 
so  found  of  Love,  shall  learn  to  love  Love  for  Love's 
sake,  Love  shall  teach  Robin  how,  in  loving  Love  — 
Love,  if  a  plague,  doth  but  plague  him  lovingly  to 
his  better  judgment  of  Love,  till,  being  on  this  wise, 
wise  —  he  shall  judge  of  Love  lovingly,  loving  Love 
at  last  for  Love's  own  lovely  sake,  rather  than  for 
his  own  selfish  self.  For  as  there  is  the  passion  of 
love,  the  which  is  a  love  selfish,  so  there  is  the  true 
Spirit  of  Love,  the  which  forgetteth  self  in  Love's 
self,  thus,  self-forgotten,  Love  is  crowned  by  Love's 
true  self. 

Melissa  :  How  think  ye  of  this,  Robin  ? 

Robin  :  By  Cupid,  we  are  so  deep  in  love  that  we 
are  like  to  drown  of  love  and  we  be  not  wary.  Here 
hath  my  lovely  jowlopped-crested  brother  so  beset 
poor  Robin  with  Love  and  self  and  Robin,  that 
Robin  kens  not  which  is  Love,  Love's  self  or 
himself. 

Melissa  :  And  yet  I  do  think  't  is  very  plain ! 
Yet  an  thou  canst  express  this  plainer,  prithee  do, 
Sir  Fool. 

'Blithely,  sweet  lady,  here  will  I  frame  my  mean- 
ing in  a  rhyme,  thus  : 

"Who  loveth  Love  himself  above, 
With  Love  base  self  transcending 
Love,  Love  shall  teach  how  Love  may  reach 
The  Love  that  hath  no  ending. 

143 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"'Tis  thus  Love-true,  Love  shall  renew, 
Love's  love  thus  waning  never, 
So  love  each  morn  of  Love  new-born, 
Love  shall  live  loving  ever." 

Robin  :  Aye,  verily,  there  's  Love  and  yet  such 
a  love  as  no  man  may  find  methinks,  brother. 

Jocelyn  :  Never,  Robin,  until  it  find  him.  For 
true  love,  like  friendship,  cometh  unsought,  like 
all  other  good  things. 

Robin  :  'Las  !  then  needs  must  I  be  no  good  thing 
since  I  am  sought  e'en  now  of  old  Mopsa  the  Witch 
yonder ! 

And  he  pointed  where  the  old  creature  hobbled 
towards  them  bent  on  her  crooked  staff.  Up  rose 
Robin  and,  hasting  to  meet  her,  louted  full  low, 
since  she  was  held  in  great  respect  of  all  men  by 
reason  of  her  potent  spells.  Chuckling  evilly,  she 
drew  down  Robin's  tall  head  to  whisper  in  his  ear, 
whereupon  he  laughed,  clapped  hand  to  brawny 
thigh,  and  taking  old  Mopsa's  feeble  arm,  hastened 
away  with  her.  But  Melissa,  reclining  'neath  the 
willow-shade,  gazed  down  into  the  murmurous 
waters  of  the  brook  with  eyes  of  dream  whiles 
Jocelyn  struck  soft,  sweet  chords  upon  his  lute. 
And  presently  she  turned  to  view  him  thoughtfully 
—  his  strange,  marred  face ;  his  eyes  so  quick  and 
keen  'neath  battered  cock's-comb ;  his  high,  proud 
bearing  despite  his  frayed  and  motley  habit;  and 
ever  her  wonder  grew  until,  at  last,  she  must  needs 
question  him : 

"Fools,  Sir  Fool,  have  I  seen  a-many,  both  in  the 
motley  and  out,  but  thou  art  rare  among  all  fools, 
I  do  think." 

Jocelyn  :  Gramercy,  lady !  Truly  fool  am  I  of 
all  fools  singular. 

144 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Melissa  :  Thou  'rt  he  I  heard,  upon  a  day,  sing 
strange,  sweet  songs,  within  the  marketplace  of 
Canalise ! 

Jocelyn  :  The  same,  lady. 

Melissa:  That  soused  my  lord  Gui  head  over 
ears  in  a  lily-pool  ? 

Jocelyn  :  Verily,  lady. 

Melissa  :  O !  Would  one  might  do  as  much  for 
Sir  Agramore  of  Biename  ! 

Jocelyn  :  One  doubtless  will,  lady. 

Melissa:  Thyself? 

Jocelyn  :  Nay  —  one  that  loveth  the  disputatious 
bickering  of  sharp  steel  better  than  I  —  one  had 
rather  fight  than  eat,  and  rather  fight  three  men  than 
one 

"Three  men?"  cried  Melissa,  starting. 

"Aye,  lady  —  and  six  men  than  three  !" 

"There  was  such  an  one,  Fool,  in  truth  a  very 
brave  man,  did  fight  three  of  my  Lord  Agramore's 
foresters  on  my  behalf.  Dost  know  of  such  an  one, 
Fool?" 

"Methinks  he  is  my  comrade,  Lady." 

"Thy  comrade  —  in  truth?  Then,  pray  you, 
speak  me  what  seeming  hath  he." 

"Ill,  lady." 

"How  so,  Fool?" 

"A  great,  fierce  rogue  is  he,  unlovely  of  look,  bleak 
of  eye,  harsh  of  tongue,  hooked  of  nose,  flinty  of  soul, 
stony  of  heart,  of  aspect  grim  and  manners  rude!" 

"Then,  verily,  thy  comrade  have  I  never  seen!" 
quoth  Melissa,  flushing  and  with  head  up-flung. 
"He  that  saved  me  is  nothing  the  like  of  this." 

"And  yet,"  said  Jocelyn  slyly,  "'tis  thus  he  hath 
been  named  ere  now  !" 

"Nay,  Fool,  indeed  he  that  saved  me  was  tall 
and  seemly  man,  very  fierce  and  strong  in  fight,  but 

145 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

to  me  wondrous  gentle  —  in  truth,  something  timor- 
ous, and,  'spite  rusty  mail,  spake  and  looked  like 
a  noble  knight." 

"Then  forsooth,  lady,  thy  champion  is  no  com- 
rade of  mine,  for  he  is  but  a  poor  rogue,  ill-beseen, 
ill-kempt,  ill-spoken,  ill-mannered  and  altogether  ill, 
save  only  that  he  is  my  friend " 

"And  thou  speakest  ill  of  thy  ill  friend,  the  which 
is  ill  in  thee  —  ill  Fool !"   and  the  fair  Melissa  rose. 

"And    pray,    lady,    didst    learn    thy    preserver's 

"Indeed,  for  I  asked  him." 

"And  it  was ?" 

"Pertinax!"  she  sighed. 

"Pertinax!"  said  Jocelyn,  both  in  the  same 
moment ;  the  dark-browed  Melissa  sat  down  again. 

"So  thy  comrade  and  —  he  are  one,  Fool ?" 

"Indeed,  lady.  Yet  here  we  have  him,  on  the 
one  hand,  a  man  noble  and  seemly,  and,  on  the  other, 
a  poor  rogue,  hook-nosed,  ill-beseen,  ill " 

"'Tis  thou  hast  miscalled  him,  Fool!"  said  she, 
frowning. 

"Not  I,  lady." 

"Who,  then?" 

"A  maid- " 

"Ah!"  said  Melissa,  frowning  blacker  than  ever. 
"A  maid,  Fool  ?     What  maid  ? " 

"A  wandering  gipsy  o'  the  wood,  lady  —  a  dark- 
eyed  damsel  with  long,  black  curling  hair  and  'voice 
of  sweet  allure'  —  'tis  so  he  named  her " 

"This  was  belike  some  wicked  witch!"  said 
Melissa,  clenching  white  fist. 

"Aye,  belike  it  was,  lady,  for  she  bestowed  on 
him  a  strange  jewel,  a  heart  in  heart  of  crystal,  that 
wrought  for  us  in  Canalise  marvels  great  as  our 
wondrous  Witch  herself." 

146 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Now  here  the  lovely  Melissa's  frown  vanished, 
and  her  red  lips  curved  to  sudden  smile. 

"Belike  this  was  no  witch  after  all!"  said  she 
gently. 

"Howbeit,  lady,"  quoth  Jocelyn  slyly,  "my  poor 
comrade  is  surely  bewitched  by  her  none  the  less. 
She  hath  wrought  on  him  spell  so  potent  that  he 
groweth  mopish  and  talketh  of  her  eyes,  her  hair, 
her  sweet  and  gentle  voice,  her  little  foot,  forsooth." 

"And  doth  he  so,  indeed?"  said  Melissa  softly, 
and,  twiddling  one  of  her  own  pretty  feet,  she  smiled 
at  it.     "Doth  he  sigh  o'er  much?"   she  questioned. 

"Consumedly  !     By  the  minute  !" 

"Poor  soldier  !"   she  murmured. 

"Aye,  poor  rogue!"  said  Jocelyn;  whereupon 
she  frowned  again,  and  turned  her  back  upon  him. 

"And  he  is  thy  comrade." 

"Even  so  —  poor  knave  !" 

"And  destitute  —  even  as  thou?" 

"Aye,  a  sorry  clapper-claw  —  even  as  I,  lady." 

"Then,  pray  thee,  why  doth  he  wear  gold  chain 
about  his  neck  ?  " 

"Chain,  lady :?" 

"Such  as  only  knights  do  wear!" 

"Belike  he  stole  it,  lady " 

"Aye  —  belike  he  did  !"  said  she,  rising  ;  then  she 
sighed  and  laughed,  and  so  turned  and  left  him. 

And  in  a  while  Jocelyn  rose  also,  and  went  on 
beside  the  brook ;  but  as  he  walked  deep  in  thought, 
there  met  him  Robin,  he  full  of  mirth  and  laughter. 

"Oho,  brother,  good  brother!"  cried  he  joyfully, 
clapping  hand  on  Jocelyn's  broad  shoulder,  "come 
away,  now,  and  see  what  the  good  wind  hath  blown 
hither  —  come  thy  ways  and  see  !" 

So  came  they  where  rose  a  great  tree  of  huge  girth, 
whose  gnarled  branches  spread  far  and  wide,  a  very 

147 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

forest  of  leaves,  beneath  whose  shade  were  many 
of  the  outlaws  grouped  about  one  who  crouched 
miserably  on  his  knees,  his  arms  fast  bound  and  a 
halter  about  his  neck;  and,  as  obedient  to  Robin's 
words  the  fierce  company  fell  back,  Jocelyn  saw 
this  torn  and  pallid  captive  was  none  other  than 
Ranulph  the  Hangman. 

"Woe's  me,  my  masters!"  quoth  he  'twixt 
chattering  teeth.  "  'T  is  pity  poor  Ranulph  must  die 
before  his  time,  for  ne'er  shall  be  found  hangman, 
headsman  or  torturer  the  like  o'  Ranulph  —  so 
dainty  i'  the  nice  adjustment  o'  noose !  So  clean 
and  delicate  wi'  the  axe !  So  tender  and  thoughtful 
wi'  pincers,  thumbscrew,  rack  or  red-hot  iron !  A 
hangman  so  kindly  o'  soul,  so  merry  o'  heart,  alack, 
so  free,  so  gay,  so  merry  —  forsooth  a  very  wanton, 
waggish,  jovial  bawcock-lad " 

"Why,  then,  good,  merry  wag,"  laughed  Robin, 
"now  shalt  thou  cut  us  an  antic  aloft  in  air,  shalt 
caper  and  dance  in  noose  to  our  joyance !  Up  with 
him,  bully  lads,  and  gently,  that  he  may  dance  the 
longer !" 

But  as  Ranulph  was  dragged,  shivering,  to  his 
feet,  Jocelyn  stepped  forward. 

"Stay!"  he  cried.  "Look,  now,  here's  hang- 
man did  but  hang  since  hang  he  must;  must  he 
hang  therefore?" 

Robin  :  Aye,  marry,  since  hanging  shall  his  hang- 
ing end ! 

Jocelyn  :  But  if  to  hang  his  duty  is,  must  he 
for  duty  hang  ?  Moreover,  if  ye  hang  this  hangman, 
unhanged  hangmen  shall  hang  still,  and  since  ye 
may  not  all  hangmen  hang,  wherefore  should  this 
hangman  hang  ? 

Kobin  :  Brother,  an  this  hangman  hang,  fewer 
hangmen  shall  there  be  to  hang,  forsooth. 

148 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Jocelyn  :  Not  so,  Robin,  for  hangman  dead  be- 
getteth  hangman  new ;  this  hangman  hanged,  hang- 
man in  his  place  shall  hang  men  after  him.  Shall 
this  hangman  hang  for  hanging  as  in  duty  bound, 
whiles  other  hangmen,  unhanged,  hang  still?  Here, 
methinks,  is  small  wisdom,  little  reason,  and  less  of 
justice,  Robin. 

Robin  :  Beshrew  me,  brother  —  but  here  's  so 
much  of  hanging  hanging  on  hanging  plaguy  hang- 
man that  hang  me  if  I  get  the  hang  on  't 

Jocelyn  :  Plainly,  Robin  —  wilt  hang  a  man  for 
doing  his  duty  ? 

Robin  :  Plainly,  brother  —  no.     But 

Jocelyn  :  Then  canst  not  hang  this  hangman, 
since  hanging  his  duty  is 

Robin  :  Yet 't  is  base,  vile  duty 

Jocelyn  :  Yet  duty  it  is  —  wherefore,  an  there 
be  any  justice  in  the  good  greenwood,  this  hangman 
unhanged  must  go. 

Now  here  Robin  scowled,  and  his  brawny  fellows 
scowled  likewise,  and  began  to  mutter  and  murmur 
against  Jocelyn,  who,  leaning  back  to  tree,  strummed 
his  lute  and  sang  : 

"O,  Life  is  sweet,  but  Life  is  fleet, 
O'er  quick  to  go,  alack ! 
And  once  't  is  spilt,  try  as  thou  wilt, 
Thou  canst  not  call  it  back  ! 

"  So  bethink  thee,  bold  Robin,  and,  as  thou  'rt 
king  o'  the  wild- wood,  be  thou  just  king  and  merci- 
ful  " 

"Now  out  upon  thee,  brother!"  cried  Robin, 
forgetting  to  scowl.  "Out  on  thee  with  thy  honied 
phrases,  thy  quipsome  lilting  rhymes !  Here  go  I 
to  do  a  thing  I  ha'  no  lust  to  do  —  and  all  by  reason 

149 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

o'  thee  !  Off  —  off  wi'  the  halter,  lads  —  loose  the 
hangman-claws  of  him  !  Hereafter,  since  he  can  pay 
no  ransom,  he  shall  be  our  serf ;  to  have  a  hangman 
fetch  and  carry  shall  be  rare,  methinks  !" 

Quoth  Jocelyn  :  How  much  should  hangman's 
flesh  be  worth  i'  the  greenwood,  Robin  ? 

"Why,  brother,  'tis  poor,  sad  and  dismal  knave; 
five  gold  pieces  shall  buy  him,  aye  —  halter  and  all, 
and  'tis  fair,  good  halter,  look  you  !" 

"Why,  then,"  said  Jocelyn,  opening  his  wallet, 
"behold  the  monies,  so  do  I  buy  him  of  thee 


«<- 


;Now,  by  Saint  Nick!"  cried  Robin,  amazed. 
"Nay,  brother,  an  thou  'It  buy  so  sorry  a  thing, 
give  thy  money  to  the  merry  lads ;  I  '11  none  on  't. 
And  now,"  said  he,  the  money  duly  paid,  "what  wilt 
do  wi'  thy  hangman?" 

"Sir  Fool,"  cried  Ranulph,  falling  on  his  knees 
at  Jocelyn's  feet,  "fain  would  I  serve  thee  —  e'en 
to  the  peril  o'  the  life  thou  hast  saved.  Bid  me 
labour  for  thee  and  in  labour  shall  be  my  joy,  bid 
me  fight  for  thee  and  I  will  fight  whiles  life  is 
in  me;  bid  me  follow  thee  and  I  will  follow  even 
unto " 

"Nay,  hangman,"  said  Jocelyn,  "I  bid  thee  rise 
and  sing  for  us,  and  so  be  gone  wheresoever  thou 
wilt." 

Then  Ranulph  arose  and  glancing  round  upon  the 
fierce  company,  from  the  noose  at  his  feet  to 
Jocelyn's  scarred  face,  he  drew  a  great  breath; 
quoth  he : 

"Sir  Fool,  since  'tis  thy  will  fain  would  I  give 
thee  song  blithe  and  joyful  since  joy  is  in  my  heart, 
but  alack,  though  my  songs  begin  in  merry  vein 
they  do  grow  mournful  anon ;  howbeit,  for  thy  joy 
now  will  I  sing  my  cheeriest;"  whereupon  Ranulph 
brake  into  song  thus  : 

I50 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"I  am  forsooth  a  merry  soul, 

Hey  derry  down,  ho  ho ! 
I  love  a  merry  song  to  troll, 
I  love  to  quaff  a  cheery  bowl, 

And  yet  thinks  I,  alas  ! 
Such  things  too  soon  do  pass, 
And  proudest  flesh  is  grass. 

Alack-a-day  and  woe, 

Alack  it  should  be  so ! 

"A  goodly  lover  I  might  be, 

Merrily,  ho  ho ! 
But  pretty  maids  in  terror  flee, 
When  this  my  hangman's  head  they  see. 

But  woe  it  is,  thinks  I, 
All  fair,  sweet  dames  must  die, 
And  pale,  sad  corpses  lie. 

Alack-a-day  and  woe, 

Alack  it  should  be  so ! 

"Fairest  beauty  is  but  dust, 
Shining  armour  soon  will  rust, 
All  good  things  soon  perish  must, 

Look  around,  thinks  I,  and  see 
All  that,  one  day,  dead  must  be, 
King  and  slave  and  you  and  me. 

Alack-a-day  and  woe, 

Alack  it  must  be  so  !" 

"Out!"  cried  Robin.  "Here  forsooth  is  dolorous 
doleful  dirge  —  out  on  thee  for  sad  and  sorry 
snuffler!" 

"Aye,  verily,"  sighed  Ranulph,  "'tis  my  curse. 
I  begin  with  laugh  and  end  in  groan.  I  did  mean 
this  for  merry  song,  yet  it  turned  of  itself  sad  song 
despite  poor  I,  and  there  's  the  pity  on  't " 

151 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Enough!"  growled  Robin,  "away  with  him. 
Brand,  do  you  hoodwink  him  in  his  'kerchief  and 
give  him  safe  conduct  to  beyond  the  ford,  and  so 
set  Master  Hangman  Grimglum-grief  on  his  road 


"Sir  Fool,"  cried  Ranulph,  "God  den  t' ye  and 
gramercy.  Should  it  be  e'er  thy  fate  to  die  o'  the 
gallows,  may  I  have  thy  despatching  —  I  will  con- 
trive it  so  sweetly  shalt  know  nought  of  it  —  oho ! 
't  would  be  my  joy." 

"Off!"  cried  Robin.  "Off,  thou  pestiferous 
fungus  lest  I  tread  on  thee  —  hence,  away  !" 

So  the  outlaws  blindfolded  Ranulph  and  led  him 
off  at  speed. 

"Away,"  quoth  Jocelyn,  nodding,  "so  now  in 
faith  must  I,  Robin " 

"What,  is  't  indeed  farewell,  brother?" 

"Aye,  Robin." 

"Why,  then,  what  may  I  give  thee  in  way  o'  love 
and  friendship  ?  " 

"Thy  hand." 

"Behold  it,  brother!  And  what  beside?  Here 
is  purse  o'  good  pieces  —  ha?" 

"Nay,  Robin,  prithee  keep  them  for  those  whose 
need  is  greater." 

"Can  I  nought  bestow  —  dost  lack  for  nothing, 
brother?" 

"What  thou,  methinks,  may  not  supply " 

"And  that?" 

"Horse  and  armour!"  Now  at  this,  Robin 
laughed  and  clapped  hand  to  thigh ;   quoth  he  : 

"Come  with  Robin,  brother!"  So  he  brought 
Jocelyn  into  a  cave  beneath  the  steep  and,  lighting 
a  torch  from  fire  that  burned  there,  led  him  on 
through  other  caves  and  winding  passages  rough- 
hewn  in  the  rock,  and  so  at  last  to  a  vasty  cavern. 

152 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  here  was  great  store  of  merchandise  of  every 
sort, — velvets,  silks,  and  rich  carpets  from  the  Orient ; 
vases  of  gold  and  silver,  and  coffers  strong-clamped 
with  many  iron  bands.  And  here  also,  hanging 
against  the  rocky  walls,  were  many  and  divers  suits 
of  armour  with  helms  and  shields  set  up  in  gallant 
array ;  beholding  all  of  which  Jocelyn  paused  to  eye 
merry  Robin  askance ;  quoth  he  soberly  : 

"Sir  Rogue,  how  came  ye  by  all  this  goodly 
furniture?" 

"By  purest  chance,  brother,"  laughed  Robin,  "for 
hark  'ee  — 

"  Chance  is  a  wind  to  outlaws  kind, 
And  many  fair  things  blows  us, 
It  —  merchants,  priors,  lords,  knights  and  squires, 
And  like  good  things  bestows  us " 

"Aye,"  said  Jocelyn,  "but  what  of  all  those 
knights  and  squires  whose  armour  hangeth  here  ?  " 

"Here  or  there,  brother,  they  come  and  they  go. 
Ha,  yonder  soundeth  Ralfwyn's  horn  —  three  blasts 
which  do  signify  some  right  fair  windfall.  Come, 
let  us  see  what  this  jolly  wind  hath  blown  us  this 
time!"  So  saying,  Robin  laughed  and  led  the  way 
out  into  the  sunny  green.  And  here,  surrounded 
by  a  ring  of  merry  forest  rogues,  they  beheld  a 
knight  right  gallantly  mounted  and  equipped,  his 
armour  blazing  in  the  sun,  his  gaudy  bannerole  a- 
flutter  from  long  lance,  his  shield  gaudy  and  brave 
with  new  paint;  beholding  which,  Robin  chuckled 
gleefully  ;  quoth  he  : 

"Oho  !  On  a  field  vert  three  falcons  gules,  proper, 
charged  with  heart  ensanguined  —  aha,  here  's  good 
booty,  methinks !" 

Now,  as  this  splendid  knight  rode  nearer,  con- 

153 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

temptuous  of  his  brawny  captors,  Robin  stared  to  see 
that  on  his  helmet  he  wore  a  wreath  of  flowers,  while 
lance  and  sword,  mace  and  battle-axe  were  wreathed 
in  blooming  roses. 

"Ho,  Jenkyn,  Cuthbert!"  cried  Robin,  "what 
Sir  Daintiness  have  ye  here  ?  "  But  ere  his  grinning 
captors  could  make  reply,  the  knight  himself  spake 
thus: 

"Behold  a  very  gentle  knight, 

Sir  Palamon  of  Tong, 
A  gentle  knight  in  sorry  plight, 
That  loveth  love  and  hateth  fight, 
A  knight  than  fight  had  rather  write, 
And  strophes  to  fair  dames  indite, 

Or  sing  a  sighful  song. 

"By  divers  braggarts  I  'm  abused, 

'T  is  so  as  I  've  heard  tell, 
Because,  since  I  'm  to  fight  unused, 
I  many  a  fight  have  bold  refused, 
And,  thereby,  saved  my  bones  unbruised, 

Which  pleaseth  me  right  well. 

"No  joy  have  I  in  steed  that  prances, 

True  gentle  man  am  I 
To  tread  to  lutes  slow,  stately  dances. 
'Stead  of  your  brutish  swords  and  lances, 
I  love  love's  lureful  looks  and  glances, 
When  hand  to  hand,  unseen,  advances, 

And  eye  caresseth  eye." 


"And  how  a  plague,  Sir  Gentleness,"  questioned 
Robin,  "may  eye  caress  eye?" 

"E'en  as  lips  voiceless  may  wooing  speak,  Sir 
Roguery,  and  tongue  unwagging  tell  tales  o'  love, 
Sir  Ferocity." 

154 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Robin  :  Then  had  I  the  trick  o'  voiceless  speech, 
now  would  I,  with  silly  tongue,  tell  thee  thou  art 
our  prisoner  to  ransom,  Sir  Silken  Softness. 

Sir  Palamon  :  And  I  joy  therefore,  Sir  Forest 
Fiend. 

Robin  :  And  wherefore  therefore  ? 

Sir  Palamon  :  For  that  therefore  I  need  not  to 
the  joust,  to  that  bone-shattering  sport  of  boastful, 
brutal  braggadocios,  but  here,  lapped  soft  in  the 
gentle  green,  woo  the  fair  Yolande 

Jocelyn  :  How,  knight,  the  fair  lady  Yolande, 
say'st  thou  ? 

Sir  Palamon  :  Even  she. 

Jocelyn  :  But  here  she  is  not  and  thou  art,  how 
then  may  one  that  is,  woo  one  is  not  ? 

Sir  Palamon  :  Gross  mountebank,  by  thought  — 
I  woo  in  thought,  breathe  my  thought  upon  the 
balmy  air  and  air  beareth  it  to  her  feet. 

Robin  :  And  she  treadeth  on  't,  so  there  's  an  end 
o'  thy  love !  But  pray  you,  Sir  Downy  Daintiness, 
how  come  ye  that  are  so  gentle  so  ungently  dight? 
Discourse,  Sir  Dove ! 

Sir  Palamon  :  In  two  words  then,  thou  lewd 
lurcher  o'  the  thickets ;  I  ride  thus  in  steely  panoply 
—  the  which  doth  irk  me  sore  —  by  reason  of  the 
tongue  of  my  mother  (good  soul !)  the  which  doth 
irk  me  more.  For  she  (worthy  lady !)  full-fed  o' 
fatuous  fantasies  and  fables  fond,  fuddled  i'  faith 
o'  faddling  fictions  as  —  gestes  of  jongleurs,  tales 
told  by  tramping  troubadours,  ballades  of  babbling 
braggarts,  romances  of  roysterous  rhymers,  she 
(good  gossip !)  as  I  say,  having  hearkened  to  and 
perused  the  works  of  such-like  pelting,  paltry  prosers 
and  poets  wherein  sweep  of  sword  and  lunge  o'  lance 
is  accompted  of  worthier  repute  than  the  penning  of 
dainty  distich  and  pretty  poesies  pleasingly  passion- 

155 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

ate.  She,  I  say  —  my  mother  (God  rest  her  !),  e'en 
she  with  tongue  most  harsh,  most  bitter  and  most 
unwearying,  hath  enforced  me,  her  son  (whom 
Venus  bless !)  —  e'en  I  that  am  soul  most  tran- 
scendental —  I  that  am  a  very  wing-ed  Mercury  — 
me,  I  say  she  hath,  by  torrential  tongueful  tumult 
(gentle  lady !),  constrained  to  don  the  habit  of  a 
base,  brawling,  beefy  and  most  material  Mars ! 
Wherefore  at  my  mother's  behest  (gracious  dame !) 
I  ride  nothing  joyful  to  be  bruised  and  battered  by 
any  base,  brutal  braggart  that  hath  the  mind  to 
try  a  tilt  with  me.     Moreover 

Robin  :  Hold  !  Take  breath,  gentle  sir,  for  thine 
own  sweet  sake  draw  thy  wind. 

Sir  Palamon  :  'T  is  done,  fellow,  't  is  done !  And 
now  in  three  words  will  I 

Robin  :  Cry  ye  mercy,  sir,  thy  two  words  do  yet 
halloo  "Buzz-buzz"  in  mine  ears. 

Sir  Palamon  :  Faith,  robber-rogue,  since  I  a 
tongue  possess 

Robin  :  Therein  thou  art  very  son  o'  thy  mother 
(whom  St.  Anthony  cherish  !). 

Sir  Palamon  :  With  this  rare  difference,  outlaw 
—  for  whereas  her  tongue  (honoured  relict !)  is 
tipped  with  gall,  wormwood,  henbane,  hemlock, 
bitter-aloes  and  verjuice,  and  stingeth  like  the  adder, 
the  asp,  the  toad,  the  newt,  the  wasp,  and  snaky- 
haired  head  of  Medusa,  mine 

Robin  :  Buzzeth,  buzz,  O  buzz  ! 

Sir  Palamon  :  Mine,  thou  paltry  knave,  I  say 
mine 

Robin  :  Buzz  — ha  —  buzz  ! 

Jocelyn  :  I  pray  you,  Sir  Knight,  doth  the  Red 
Gui  tilt  at  to-morrow's  joust  ? 

Sir  Palamon  :  Base  mime,  he  doth !  My  Lord 
Gui  of  Ells,  Lord  Seneschal  of  Raddemore,  is  my 

156 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

friend,  a  very  mirror  of  knightly  prowess,  the  sure 
might  of  whose  lance  none  may  abide.  He  is,  in 
very  truth,  the  doughtiest  champion  in  all  this  fair 
country,  matchless  at  any  and  every  weapon,  a- 
horse  or  a-foot,  in  sooth  a  very  Ajax,  Achilles,  Hector, 
Roland  and  Oliver  together  and  at  once,  one  and 
indivisible,  aye  —  by  Cupid  a  very  paladin  !  '"T  is 
so  I  've  heard,"  said  Jocelyn  thoughtfully. 

Sir  Palamon  :  Two  knights  only  there  are  might 
cope  with  him,  and  one  Sir  Agramore  and  one 
Jocelyn  of  the  Helm,  Duke  of  Brocelaunde.  The 
fame  of  which  last  rumour  hath  so  puffed  up  that 
thrice  my  Lord  Gui  hath  sent  his  cartel  of  defiance, 
but  the  said  Duke,  intent  on  paltry  battles  beyond  his 
marches,  hath  thrice  refused,  and  wisely — so  'tis  said. 

"Aye  me,  messire,"  quoth  Jocelyn,  strumming 
his  lute,  "and  so  bloweth  the  wind.  Yet  mayhap 
these  twain  shall  meet  one  day." 

Robin  :  And  heaven  send  me  there  to  see !  Now 
as  to  thee,  Sir  Softly  Sweet,  fair  Lord  of  Tong,  thy 
goodly  horse  and  armour  are  mine  henceforth,  first 
because  thy  need  of  them  is  nothing,  secondly  be- 
cause thou  art  my  prisoner 

Sir  Palamon  :  And  thirdly,  Sir  Riotous  Rough- 
ness, I  do  freely  on  thee  bestow  them,  hide  and  hair, 
bolt  and  rivet. 

Robin  :  Now  as  to  thy  ransom,  Sir  Mildly-Meek, 
at  what  price  dost  rate  thy  value,  spiritual  and 
corporeal  ? 

Sir  Palamon  :  Fellow,  though  youthful,  well- 
favoured  and  poet  esteemed,  I  am  yet  marvellous 
modest !  'T  is  true  I  am  knight  of  lineage  lofty,  of 
patrimony  proud,  of  manors  many 

Robin  :  Even  as  of  thy  words,  Sir  Emptiness. 

Sir  Palamon  :  'Tis  also  true,  thou  ignorant  atomy, 
I,  like  Demosthenes,  am  blessed  with  a  wonder  o* 

157 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

words  and  glory  o'  sweet  phrase,  and  yet,  and  here  *s 
the  enduring  wonder  —  I  am  still  but  man,  though 
man  blessed  with  so  much  profundity,  fecundity, 
and  redundity  of  thought  and  expression,  and  there- 
fore a  facile  scribe  or  speaker,  able  to  create,  relate, 
formulate  or  postulate  any  truth,  axiomatic,  sophistry 

subtle,  or,  in  other  words,  I  can  narrate 

Robin  :  Verily  Sir  Windbag  thou  dost,  to  narrate, 
thyself  with  wind  inflate,  and,  being  thus  thyself 
inflate  of  air,  thou  dost  thyself  deflate  of  airy  sounds 
which  be  words  o'  wind,  and  windy  words  is  empti- 
ness —  thus  by  thy  inflatings  and  deflatings  cometh 
nought  but  wind  bred  o'  wind,  and  nought  is  nothing, 
so  nought  is  thy  relation  or  narration ;  whereof 
make  now  a  cessation,  so  will  I,  in  due  form,  formu- 
late, postulate  and  deliberate.  Thus,  with  my 
good  rogues'  approbation  and  acclamation,  I  will 
of  thy  just  valuation  make  tabulation,  and  give 
demonstration  in  relation  to  thy  liberation  from 
this  thy  situation,  as  namely,  viz.  and  to-wit : 
First  thou  art  a  poet ;  in  this  is  thy  marketable  value 
to  us  nought,  for  poets  do  go  empty  of  aught  but 
thought  of  sort  when  wrought,  unbought ;  thus  go 
they  short  which  doth  import  they  're  empty,  purse 
and  belly.  Second,  upon  thy  testimony  thou  'rt 
a  man.  Go  to !  Here  we  be  out  again,  for  on  the 
score  of  manliness  thou  art  not.  Yet  thou  art  flesh 
and  blood  —  good  !  for  here  we  deal  in  such.  Not 
that  we  yearn  for  thy  flesh  and  blood,  but,  being 
thine,  they  are  to  thee  dear,  perchance,  and  thou 
would'st  fain  keep  them  alive  a  little  longer ;  where- 
fore thou  shalt  for  thy  loved  flesh  and  blood  pay  — 
purchasing  the  same  of  us.  And,  as  flesh  varies, 
so  do  our  prices  vary ;  we  do  sell  a  man  his  own 
flesh  and  blood  at  certain  rateable  values.  Thus 
unto  a  hangman  we  did  of  late  sell  a  hangman,  in 

i58 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

fair  good  halter,  and  he  a  hangman  brawny,  for  no 
more  than  five  gold  pieces,  the  which  was  cheap, 
methinks,  considering  the  goodly  halter,  and  he  a 
lusty,  manly  rogue  to  boot.  Now  as  for  thee,  thou  'rt 
soft  and  of  a  manlihood  indifferent,  so  would  I  rate 
thee  at  one  gold  piece. 

Sir  Palamon  :  Ignorant  grub !  Am  I  less  than 
base  hangman  —  I,  a  knight 

Robin  :  True,  Sir  Knight,  thou  'rt  a  knight  for 
no  reason  but  that  thou  art  knight  born  and  thus, 
by  nought  but  being  born,  hath  won  to  thyself 
nobility,  riches  and  honours  such  as  no  man  may 
win  either  by  courage,  skill,  or  learning,  since  high- 
born fool  and  noble  rogue  do  rank  high  'bove  such. 
So  thou  art  knight,  Sir  Knight,  and  for  thy  knight- 
hood, thy  lineage  lofty,  thy  manors  many,  mulcted 
thou  shalt  be  in  noble  fashion.  For  thy  manhood 
I  assess  thee  at  one  gold  piece,  but,  since  thou  'rt 
son  o'  thy  dam  (whom  the  Saints  pity !)  we  do  fine 
thee  five  thousand  gold  pieces  —  thy  body  ours 
until  the  purchase  made.  Away  with  him,  lads ; 
cherish  him  kindly,  unarm  him  gently,  and  set 
him  a-grinding  corn  till  his  ransom  be  paid  — 
away ! 

Now  here  was  mighty  roar  of  laughter  and  acclaim 
from  all  who  heard,  only  Sir  Palamon  scowled,  and, 
for  once  mute  and  tongue-tied,  was  led  incontinent 
away  to  his  labours. 

"And  now,  brother,"  quoth  Robin,  turning  where 
Jocelyn  stood  smiling  and  merry-eyed,  "what  o' 
this  armour  dost  seek,  and  wherefore?" 

"Art  a  lovely  robber,  Robin,"  said  he;  "a  very 
various  rogue,  yet  no  rogue  born,  methinks !" 

"I  was  not  always  outlaw,  brother  —  howbeit, 
what  would  a  Fool  with  horse  and  knightly  arms?" 

Now  Jocelyn,  bending  close,  whispered  somewhat 

159 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

in  Robin's  ear,  whereon  he  clapped  hand  to  thigh, 
and  laughed  and  laughed  until  the  air  rang  again. 

"Oho,  a  jape  —  a  jape  indeed!"  he  roared.  "O 
lovely  brother,  to  see  proud  knight  unhorsed  by 
prancing  motley  Fool !  Hey,  how  my  heart  doth 
jump  for  gladness  !  An  thou  wilt  a-tilting  ride,  I 
will  squire  thee  —  a  Fool  of  a  knight  tended  by 
Rogue  of  a  squire.  O,  rare  —  aha  !  oho  !  Come 
thy  ways,  sweet  brother,  and  let  us  set  about  this 
joyous  jape  forthwith !" 

And  thus  it  was  that,  as  evening  fell,  there  rode, 
through  bowery  bracken  and  grassy  glade,  two  horse- 
men full  blithe  and  merry,  and  the  setting  sun  flashed 
back  in  glory  from  their  glittering  armour. 


1 60 


FYTTE   10 

How  Red  Gui  sore  smitten  was  in  fight 
By  motley  Fool  in  borrowed  armour  dight. 


Now  shrill  tucket  and  clarion,  trumpet  and  horn 
With  their  cheery  summons  saluted  the  morn, 
Where  the  sun,  in  his  splendour  but  newly  put  on, 
Still  more  splendid  made  pennon  and  brave  gon- 
falon 
That  with  banners  and  pennoncelles  fluttered  and 

flew 
High  o'er  tent  and  pavilion  of  every  hue. 
For  the  lists  were  placed  here,  for  the  tournament 

set, 
Where  already  a  bustling  concourse  was  met; 
Here  were  poor  folk  and  rich  folk,  lord,  lady  and 

squire, 
Clad  in  leather,  in  cloth  and  in  silken  attire ; 
Here  folk  pushed  and  folk  jostled,  as  people  still  do 
When  the  sitters  be  many,  the  seats  scant  and  few ; 
Here  was  babble  of  voices  and  merry  uproar, 
For  while  some  folk  laughed  loud,  some  lost  tempers 

and  swore. 
Until  on  a  sudden  this  tumult  and  riot 
Was  hushed  to  a  murmur  that  sank  into  quiet 
As  forth  into  the  lists,  stern  of  air,  grave  of  face, 
Five   fine   heralds,   with   tabard   and   trumpet,   did 

pace 
With  their  Lion-at-arms,  or  Chief  Herald,  before ; 
And  a  look  most  portentous  this  Chief  Herald  wore, 

161 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And,  though  portly  his  shape  and  a  little  too  round, 
Sure  a  haughtier  Chief  Herald  could  nowhere   be 

found. 
So  aloof  was  his  look  and  so  grave  his  demeanour, 
Humble  folk  grew  abashed,  and  mean  folk  felt  the 

meaner ; 
When  once  more  the  loud  clarions  had  all  echoes 

woke 
This  Chief  Herald  in  voice  deep  and  sonorous  spoke : 

"Good  people  all, 
Both  great  and  small, 

Oyez ! 
Ye  noble  dames  of  high  degree 
Your  pretty  ears  now  lend  to  me, 
And  much  I  will  declare  to  ye. 

Oyez !     Oyez ! 
Ye  dainty  lords  of  might  and  fame, 
Ye  potent  gentles,  do  the  same, 
Ye  puissant  peers  of  noble  name, 
Now  unto  ye  I  do  proclaim : 

Oyez!     Oyez!     Oyez!" 

Here  pealed  the  trumpets,  ringing  loud  and  clear, 

That  deafened  folk  who  chanced  to  stand  too  near. 

In  special  one  —  a  bent  and  hag-like  dame, 

Who  bent  o'er  crooked  staff  as  she  were  lame ; 

Her  long,  sharp  nose  —  but  no,  her  nose  none  saw, 

Since  it  was  hidden  'neath  the  hood  she  wore 

But  from  this  hood  she  watched  with  glittering  eye 

Four  lusty  men-at-arms  who  lolled  hard  by, 

Who,  'bove  their  armour,  bore  on  back  and  breast 

A  bloody  hand  —  Lord  Gui's  well-hated  crest, 

And  who,  unwitting  of  the  hooded  hag, 

On  sundry  matters  let  their  lewd  tongues  wag : 

The    First   Soldier  :     Why,    she   scorned   him, 
't  is  well  beknown  ! 

162 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

The  Second  Soldier  :  Aye,  and  it  doth  not  do 
to  scorn  the  Red  Gui,  look  'ee ! 

The  Third  Soldier:  She'll  lie  snug  in  his  arms 
yet,  her  pride  humbled,  her  proud  spirit  broke, 
I  '11  warrant  me  ! 

The  Fourth  Soldier  :  She  rideth  hence  in  her 
litter,  d'  ye  see ;  and  with  but  scant  few  light-armed 
knaves  attendant. 

The  First  Soldier:  Aye,  and  our  signal  my 
lord's  hunting-horn  thrice  winded 

Thus  did  they  talk,  with  laughter  loud  and  deep, 
While  nearer  yet  the  hooded  hag  did  creep ; 

But:  — 
Now  blew  the  brazen  clarions  might  and  main, 
Which  done,  the  portly  Herald  spake  again : 

"Good  people,  all  ye  lords  and  ladies  fair, 

Oyez ! 
Now  unto  ye  forthwith  I  do  declare 
The  charms  of  two  fair  dames  beyond  compare. 

Oyez  !     Oyez  !     Oyez  ! 
The  first,  our  Duchess  —  Benedicta  hight, 
That  late  from  Tissingors,  her  town,  took  flight, 
To-day,  returning  here,  doth  bless  our  sight, 
And  view  the  prowess  of  each  valiant  knight; 
Each  champ-i-on,  in  shining  armour  dight, 
With  blunted  weapons  gallantly  shall  fight. 
And,  watched  by  eyes  of  ladies  beamy-bright, 
Inspired  and  strengthened  by  this  sweet  eye-light, 
Shall  quit  themselves  with  very  main  and  might ; 
The  second  :  —  in  her  beauty  Beauty's  peer, 
Yolande  the  Fair,  unto  our  Duchess  dear, 
For  whose  sweet  charms  hath  splintered  many  a  spear, 
Throned  with  our  lovely  Duchess,  sitteth  here 
With  her  bright  charms  all  gallant  hearts  to  cheer. 

163 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Now,  ye  brave   knights,    that   nought   but    Cupid 

fear, 
To  these  sweet  dames  give  eye,  to  me  give  ear ! 

Oyez ! 
'T  is  now  declared " 

My  daughter  gillian  expostulateth : 

Gill  :        O,  father,  now 

You  must  allow 

That  your  herald  is  rather  a  bore. 

He  talks  such  a  lot, 

And  it  seems  frightful  rot 

Myself  :  I  hate  slang,  miss  !     I  told  you  before ! 

If  my  herald  says  much, 

Yet  he  only  says  such 

As  by  heralds  was  said  in  those  days ; 

Though  their  trumpets  they  blew, 

It  is  none  the  less  true 

That  they  blew  them  in  other  folks'  praise. 

If  my  herald  verbose  is 

And  gives  us  large  doses 

Of  high-sounding  rodomontade, 

You  '11  find  they  spoke  so 

In  the  long,  long  ago, 

So  blame  not  —  O,  blame  not  the  bard. 

But  while  we  are  prating 

Our  herald  stands  waiting 

In  a  perfectly  terrible  fume, 

So,  my  dear,  here  and  now, 

The  poor  chap  we  '11  allow 

His  long-winded  speech  to  resume : 

"  'T  is  here  declared  by  order  of  the  Ten, 
Fair  Benedicta's  guardians  —  worthy  men  ! 
Thus  they  decree  —  ye  lovers  all  rejoice  ! 
She  shall  by  their  command,  this  day  make  choice 
Of  him  —  O,  him  !     O  blest,  thrice  blessed  he 
Who  must  anon  her  lord  and  husband  be. 

164 

t 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

'T  is  so  pronounced  by  her  grave  guardians  ten, 
By  them  made  law  —  and  they  right  reverend  men  ! 
And  this  the  law  —  our  lady,  be  it  said, 
This  day  shall  choose  the  husband  she  must  wed ; 
And  he  who  wins  our  Duchess  for  his  own 
Crowned  by  her  love  shall  mount  to  ducal  throne, 
So  let  each  knight,  by  valiant  prowess,  prove 
Himself  most  worthy  to  our  lady's  love. 
Now  make  I  here  an  end,  and  ending,  pray 
Ye  quit  you  all  like  val'rous  knights  this  day." 

Thus  spake  the  Chief  Herald  and  so  paced  sol- 
emnly down  the  lists  while  the  long  clarions  filled 
the  air  with  gallant  music.  But  the  lovely  Bene- 
dicta,  throned  beneath  silken  canopy,  knit  her 
black  brows  and  clenched  slender  hands  and  stamped 
dainty  foot,  yet  laughed  thereafter,  whereupon 
Yolande,  leaning  to  kiss  her  flushed  cheek,  ques- 
tioned her,  wondering : 

"How  say'st  thou  to  this,  my  loved  Benedicta?" 

Quoth  the  Duchess  : 

"I  say,  my  sweeting,  't  is  quite  plain 
That  I  must  run  away  again  ! 

Howbeit  I  care  not  one  rush  for  their  laws ! 
Marry  forsooth  —  a  fig !  Let  them  make  laws 
an  they  will,  these  reverend,  right  troublesome 
grey-beards  of  mine,  they  shall  never  wed  me  but 
to  such  a  man  as  Love  shall  choose  me,  and  loving 
him  —  him  only  will  I  wed,  be  he  great  or  lowly, 
rich  or  poor,  worthy  or  unworthy,  so  I  do  love  him, 
as  is  the  sweet  and  wondrous  way  of  love." 

"Ah,  Benedicta  !  what  is  love?" 

165 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"A  joy  that  cometh  but  of  itself,  all  unsought! 
This  wisdom  had  I  of  a  Fool  i'  the  forest.  Go  learn 
you  of  this  same  Fool  and  sigh  not,  dear  wench." 

"Nay,  but,"  sighed  Yolande,  lovely  cheeks  a- 
flush,  "what  of  Sir  Agramore  —  hath  he  not  sworn 
to  wed  thee?" 

"I  do  fear  Sir  Agramore  no  longer,  Yolande, 
since  I  have  found  me  one  may  cope  with  him 
perchance  —  even  as  did  a  Fool  with  my  Lord 
Gui  of  Ells  upon  a  time.  Art  sighing  again,  sweet 
maid  ?  " 

"Nay,  indeed  —  and  wherefore  should  I  sigh?" 

"At  mention  of  a  Fool,  belike." 

"Ah,  no,  no,  't  were  shame  in  me,  Benedicta! 
A  Fool  forsooth!" 

"Yet  Fool  of  all  fools  singular,  Yolande.  And 
for  all  his  motley  a  very  man,  methinks,  and  of  a 
proud,  high  bearing." 

Here  Yolande's  soft  cheek  grew  rosy  again : 

"Yet  is  he  but  motley  Fool  —  and  his  face  — 
marred  hatefully " 

"Hast  seen  him  smile,  Yolande,  for  then  — 
how,  dost  sigh  again,  my  sweet?" 

"Nay,    indeed;     but   talk    we   of   other   matters 

—  thy  so  sudden  flight  —  tell  me  all  that  chanced 
thee,  dearest  Benedicta." 

"Why  first  —  in  thine  ear,  Yolande  —  my  jewel 
is  not  —  see  !" 

"How  —  how,  alas!  O  most  sweet  lady  —  hast 
lost  it  ?     Thy  royal  amulet  ?  " 

"Bestowed  it,  Yolande." 

"Benedicta  !     On  whom  ? " 

"A  poor  soldier.  One  that  saved  me  i'  the 
forest    from    many    of    Sir    Agramore's    verderers 

—  a  man  very  tall  and  strong  and  brave,  but  dight 
in  ragged  cloak  and  rusty  mail " 

1 66 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 


"Ragged?     A  thief " 

"Mayhap!" 

"An  outlaw " 

"Mayhap!" 

"A  wolf's-head  —  a  wild  man  and  fierce." 

"True  he  is  very  wild  and  very  fierce,  but  very, 
very  gentle " 

"And  didst  give  to  such  thy  jewel  ?  0  Benedicta  ! 
TheHeart-in-heart?" 

"Freely  —  gladly!  He  begged  it  of  me  very 
humbly  and  all  unknowing  what  it  signified " 

"0  my  loved  Benedicta,  alas !" 

"O  my  sweet  Yolande,  joy  !" 

"But  if  he  should  claim  thee,  and  he  so  poor  and 
wild  and  ragged 


"If  he  should,  Yolande,  if  he  should 

'He  that  taketh  Heart-in-heart, 
Taketh  all  and  every  part.' 

O,  if  he  should,  Yolande,  then  I  —  must  fulfil 
the  prophecy.  Nay,  dear  my  friend,  stare  not  so 
great  and  sadly-eyed,  he  knoweth  not  the  virtue 
of  the  jewel  nor  have  I  seen  him  these  many  days." 
"And  must  thou  sigh  therefore,  Benedicta?" 
But  now  the  trumpets  blew  a  fanfare,  and  forth 
rode  divers  gallant  knights,  who,  spurring  rearing 
steeds,  charged  amain  to  gore,  to  smite  and  batter  each 
other  with  right  good  will  while  the  concourse  shouted, 
caps  waved  and  scarves  and  ribands  fluttered. 

But  here,  methinks,  it  booteth  not  to  tell 
Of  every  fierce  encounter  that  befell ; 
How  knight  'gainst  knight  drove  fierce  with  point- 
less spear 
And  met  with  shock  that  echoed  far  and  near ; 

167 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Or   how,    though    they    with    blunted    swords    did 

smite, 
Sore  battered  was  full  many  a  luckless  wight. 
But  as  the  day  advanced  and  sun  rose  high 
Full  often  rose  the  shout :  "A  Gui  —  A  Gui !" 
For   many   a   proud    (though   bruised   and   breath- 
less) lord, 
Red  Gui's  tough  lance  smote  reeling  on  the  sward ; 
And  ever  as  these  plaudits  shook  the  air, 
Through  vizored  casque  at  Yolande  he  would  stare. 

And  beholding  all  the  beauty  of  her  he  smiled 
evilly  and  muttered  to  himself,  glancing  from  her 
to  certain  lusty  men-at-arms  who,  lolling  'gainst 
the  barriers,  bore  at  back  and  breast  his  badge  of 
the  bloody  hand. 

But  the  fair  Yolande  heeded  him  none  at  all, 
sitting  with  eyes  a-dream  and  sighing  ever  and  anon ; 
insomuch  that  the  Duchess,  watching  her  slyly, 
sighed  amain  also  and  presently  spake : 

"Indeed,  and  O  verily,  Yolande,  meseemeth 
we  do  sigh  and  for  ever  sigh,  thou  and  I,  like  two 
poor,  love-sick  maids.     How  think'st  thou?" 

"Nay,  O  Benedicta,  hearken!  See,  who  rideth 
yonder?" 

Now  even  as  thus  fair  Yolanda  spoke, 

A  horn's  shrill  note  on  all  men's  hearing  broke, 

And  all  eyes  turned  where  rode  a  gallant  knight, 

In  burnished  armour  sumptuously  bedight. 

His  scarlet  plumes  'bove  gleaming  helm  a-dance, 

His  bannerole  a-flutter  from  long  lance, 

His  gaudy  shield  with  new-popped  blazon  glowed : 

Three  stooping  falcons  that  on  field  vert  showed; 

But  close-shut  vizor  hid  from  all  his  face 

As  thus  he  rode  at  easy,  ambling  pace. 

168 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 


if 


:Now  as  I  live!"  cried  Benedicta.  "By  his 
device  yon  should  be  that  foolish  knight  Sir  Pala- 
mon  of  Tong !" 

"Aye,  truly!"  sighed  Yolande.  "Though  he 
wear  no  motley  hither  rideth  indeed  a  very  fool. 
And  look,  Benedicta  —  look !  O,  sure  never  rode 
knight  in  like  array  —  see  how  the  very  populace 
groweth  dumb  in  its  amaze  !" 

For  now  the  crowd  in  wonderment  grew  mute, 

To  see  this  knight  before  him  bare  a  lute, 

While  blooming  roses  his  great  helmet  crowned, 

They  wreathed  his  sword,  his  mighty  lance  around. 

Thus  decked  rode  he  in  rosy  pageantry, 

And  up  the  lists  he  ambled  leisurely ; 

Till,  all  at  once,  from  the  astonied  crowd 

There  brake  a  hum  that  swelled  to  laughter  loud ; 

But  on  he  rode,  nor  seemed  to  reck  or  heed, 

Till  'neath  the  balcony  he  checked  his  steed. 

Then,  handing  lance  unto  his  tall  esquire, 

He  sudden  struck  sweet  chord  upon  his  lyre, 

And  thus,  serene,  his  lute  he  plucked  until 

The  laughter  died  and  all  stood  hushed  and  still ; 

Then,  hollow  in  his  helm,  a  clear  voice  rang, 

As,  through  his  lowered  vizor,  thus  he  sang : 

"A  gentle  knight  behold  in  me, 
(Unless  my  blazon  lie  !) 
For  on  my  shield  behold  and  see, 
Upon  field  vert,  gules  falcons  three, 
Surcharged  with  heart  ensanguiney, 
To  prove  to  one  and  all  of  ye, 
A  love-lorn  knight  am  I." 

But  now  cometh  (and  almost  in  haste)  the  haughty 
and  right  dignified  Chief  Herald  with  pursuivants 

169 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

attendant,   which  latter  having  trumpeted   amain, 
the  Herald  challenged  thus  :  I 

"Messire,  by  the  device  upon  thy  shield, 
We  know  my  Lord  of  Tong  is  in  the  field ; 
But  pray  thee  now  declare,  pronounce,  expound, 
Why  thus  ye  ride  with  foolish  roses  crowned?" 

Whereto  the  Knight  maketh  answer  forthwith : 

"If  foolish  be  these  flowers  I  bear, 
Then  fool  am  I,  I  trow. 
Yet,  in  my  folly,  fool  doth  swear, 
These  flowers  to  fool  an  emblem  rare 
Of  one,  to  fool,  more  sweet,  more  fair, 
E'en  she  that  is  beyond  compare, 
A  flower  perchance  for  fool  to  wear, 
Who  shall  his  foolish  love  declare 
Till  she,  mayhap,  fool's  life  may  share, 
Nor  shall  this  fool  of  love  despair, 
Till  foolish  life  shall  go. 

"For  life  were  empty,  life  were  vain, 
If  true  love  come  not  nigh, 
Though  honours,  fortune,  all  I  gain, 
Yet  poorer  I  than  poor  remain, 
If  true-love  from  me  fly ; 
So  here  I  pray, 
If  that  thou  may, 
Ah  —  never  pass  me  by  ! 


i" 


Here  the  Chief  Herald  frowned,  puffing  his  cheeks, 
and  waved  his  ebony  staff  authoritatively. 

Quoth  he:  "Enough,  Sir  Knight!  Here  is  no 
place  for  love!     For  inasmuch  as  we " 

The  Knight  :  Gentle  Herald,  I  being  here,  here 

170 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

is  Love,  since  I  am  lover,  therefore  love-full,  thus 
where  I  go  goeth  Love 

The  Herald  :  Apprehend  me,  Sir  Knight !  For 
whereas  love  hath  no  part  in 

The  Knight  :  Noble  Herald,  Love  hath  every 
part  within  me  and  without,  thus  I,  from  Love 
apart,  have  no  part,  and  my  love  no  part  apart 
from  my  every  part;  wherefore,  for  my  part,  and 
on  my  part,  ne'er  will  I  with  Love  part  for  thy  part 
and  this  to  thee  do  I  impart 

"Sweet  Saints  aid  us  ! "  The  Chief  Herald  clasped 
his  massy  brow  and  gazed  with  eye  distraught. 
"Sir  Knight  —  messire  —  my  very  good  and  noble 
Lord  of  Tong  —  I  grope  !  Here  is  that  which  hath 
a  seeming  .  .  .  thy  so  many  parts  portend  some- 
what .  .  .  and  yet  ...  I  excogitate  .  .  .  yet  grope 
I  still  .  .  .  impart,  part  .  .  .  thy  part  and  its  part 
...  so  many  parts  .  .  .  and  roses  .  .  .  and  songs 
o'  love  ...  a  lute !  O,  thundering  Mars,  I  .  .  . 
Sound,  trumpets!" 

But  the  Duchess  up-starting,  silenced  Herald 
and  trumpeters  with  imperious  hand. 

"Sir  Knight  of  Tong,"  said  she,  "'tis  told  thou  'rt 
of  nimble  tongue  and  a  maker  of  songs,  so  we  bid 
thee  sing  if  thy  song  be  of  Love  —  for  Love  is  a 
thing  little  known  and  seldom  understood  these 
days.  Here  be  very  many  noble  knights  wondrous 
learned  in  the  smiting  of  buffets,  but  little  else; 
here  be  noble  dames  very  apt  at  the  play  of  eyes, 
the  twining  of  fingers,  the  languishment  of  sighs,  that, 
seeking  True-love,  find  but  its  shadow ;  and  here 
also  grey  beards  that  have  forgot  the  very  name  of 
Love.  So  we  bid  thee  sing  us  of  Love  —  True-love, 
what  it  is.     Our  ears  attend  thee!" 

"Gracious  lady,"  answered  the  Knight,  "gladly 
do  I  obey.     But  Love  is  mighty  and  I  lowly,  and 

I7I 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

may  speak  of  Love  but  from  mine  own  humility. 
And  though  much  might  be  said  of  Love  since  Love's 
empire  is  the  universe  and  Love  immortal,  yet  will 
I  strive  to  portray  this  mighty  thing  that  is  True- 
love  in  few,  poor  words." 

Then,  plucking  sweet  melody  from  his  lute, 
the  Knight  sang  as  here  f olloweth  : 

"What  is  Love?     'Tis  this,  I  say, 
Flower  that  springeth  in  a  day 
Ne'er  to  die  or  fade  away 
Since  True-love  dieth  never. 

"  Though  youth,  alas  !  too  soon  shall  wane, 
Though  friend  prove  false  and  effort  vain, 
True-love  all  changeless  doth  remain 
The  same  to-day  and  ever." 

Now  while  the  clarions  rang  out  proclaiming  Sir 
Palamon's  defiance,  Benedicta  looked  on  Yolande 
and  Yolande  on  Benedicta  : 

"O,  wonderful!"  cried  the  Duchess.  "My  Lord 
of  Tong  hath  found  him  manhood  and  therewith 
a  wisdom  beyond  most  and  singeth  such  love  as 
methought  only  angels  knew  and  maids  might 
vision  in  their  dreams.  Ah,  Yolande  —  that  such 
a  love  could  be  .  .  .  e'en  though  he  went  ragged 
and  poor  in  all  but  love  ..." 

"Benedicta,"  sighed  Yolande,  hands  clasped  on 
swelling  bosom,  "O  Benedicta,  here  is  no  foolish 
Lord  of  Tong  .  .  .  and  yet  .  .  .  O,  I  am  mad !" 

"Why,  then,  'tis  sweet  madness!  So,  my  Yo- 
lande, let  us  be  mad  awhile  together  .  .  .  thou  — 
a  Fool  .  .  .  and  I  —  a  beggar-rogue!" 

"Nay  —  alas,  dear  Benedicta!  This  were 
shame " 


172 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"And  forsooth  is  it  shame  doth  swell  thy  heart, 
Yolande,  light  the  glamour  in  thine  eyes  and  set 
thee  a-tremble  —  e'en  as  I  ?  Nay  indeed,  thou  'rt 
a-thrill  with  Folly  .  .  .  and  I,  with  Roguery. 
Loved  Folly  !  Sweet  Roguery !  O  Yolande,  let  us 
fly  from  empty  state,  from  this  mockery  of  life  and 
learn  the  sweet  joys  of  .  .  .  of  beggary,  and,  crowned 
with  poverty,  clasp  life " 


Myself,  myself  interrupting : 

By  the  way,  my  dear,  you  '11  understand, 

Though  this  is  very  fine, 

Still,  her  Grace's  counsel  to  Yolande 

Must  not  be  in  your  line ! 

Not  that  I  'd  have  you  wed  for  wealth, 

Or  marry  a  beggar-man  by  stealth, 

But  I  would  have  you,  if  you  can 

Gill  :         Marry  some  strong,  stern,  silent  man, 

Named  Mark,  and  with  hair  slightly  gray 

by  the  ears ! 
Now  he  's  just  the  sort  who  would  bore  me 

to  tears. 
If  I  for  a  husband  feel  ever  inclined, 
I  shall  choose  quite  an  ordin'ry  husband  — 

the  kind 
With  plenty  of  money  and  nothing  to  do, 
With  a  nice,  comfy  house,  and  a  motor  or 

two 

Myself  :  That 's  all  very  fine,  miss,  but  what  would 

you  do 
If  he,   by   some   ill-chance,   quite   penniless 

grew? 
Gill  :        Oh,  why  then  —  why,  of  course, 

I  should  get  a  divorce 

Myself  :  A   divorce  ?     Gracious   heaven !     For   good- 
ness' sake 

Gill  :         'T  would  be  the  most  dignified  action  to  take  ! 

173 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Myself  :  Pray,  what  in  the  world  of  such  things  do 

you  know? 
Gill  :         Well,  father,  like  you  —  each  day  older  I 
grow. 
But,  instead  of  discussing  poor  me, 
I  think  you  would  much  nicer  be 
To  get  on  with  our  Geste. 
Myself  :  I  obey  your  behest ! 

Said  Yolande  to  the  duchess,  said  she : 

"Nay,  my  Benedicta,  these  be  only  dreams,  but 
life  is  real  and  dreams  a  very  emptiness  !" 

"And  is  't  so,  forsooth?"  exclaimed  the  Duchess. 
*'Then  am  I  nought  but  a  duchess  and  lonely,  thou 
a  maid  fearful  of  her  own  heart,  and  yon  singer  of 
love  only  a  very  futile  knight,  Sir  Palamon  of  Tong, 
nothing  esteemed  by  thee  for  wit  or  valour  and  little 
by  his  peers  —  see  how  his  challengers  do  throng. 
How  think  you?"  But  the  lady  Yolande  sat  very 
still  and  silent,  only  she  stared,  great-eyed,  where 
danced  the  scarlet  plume. 

And  indeed  many  and  divers  were  the  knights  who, 
beholding  the  blazon  of  Tong,  sent  the  bearer  their 
defiance,  eager  to  cope  with  him ;  and  each  and 
every  challenge  Sir  Palamon  accepted  by  mouth  of 
his  tall  esquire  who  (vizor  closed,  even  as  his  lord's) 
spake  the  Chief  Herald  in  loud,  merry  voice,  thus  : 

"Sir  Herald,  whereas  and  forinasmuch  as  this, 
my  Lord  of  Tong  himself,  himself  declaring  fool,  is 
so  himself-like  as  to  meet  in  combat  each  and  every 
of  his  challengers  —  themselves  ten,  my  lord  that 
is  fool,  himself  himself  so  declaring,  now  declareth 
by  me  that  am  no  fool  but  only  humble  esquire  — 
messire,  I  say,  doth  his  esquire  require  that  I,  the 
said  esquire,  should  on  his  part  impart  as  followeth, 
namely  and  to  wit :  That  these  ten  gentle  knights, 
the  said  challengers,  shall  forthwith  of  themselves 

174 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

choose  of  themselves,  themselves  among  themselves 
thereto  agreeing,  which  of  themselves,  among  them- 
selves of  themselves  so  chosen,  shall  first  in  combat 
adventure  himself  against  my  Lord  of  Tong  himself. 
And  moreover,  should  Fortune  my  lord  bless  with 
victory,  the  nine  remaining  shall  among  themselves 
choose,  themselves  agreeing,  which  of  themselves 
shall  next,  thus  chosen  of  themselves,  themselves 
represent  in  single  combat  with  this  very  noble, 
fool-like  Lord  of  Tong,  my  master.  Furthermore, 
whereas  and  notwithstanding " 

"Hold,  sir!"  cried  the  Chief  Herald,  fingering 
harassed  brow.  "Pray  thee  'bate  —  O,  abate  thy 
speechful  fervour.  Here  forsooth  and  of  truth  is 
notable  saying  —  O,  most  infallibly  —  and  yet  per- 
chance something  discursive  and  mayhap  a  little 
involved." 

"Nay,  Sir  Herald,"  quoth  the  esquire,  "if  in- 
volved 't  will  be  resolved  if  revolved,  thus  :  Here  be 
ten  lords  would  fight  one,  and  one  —  that  is  my 
lord  who  is  but  one  —  ten  fight  one  by  one.  But 
that  ten,  fighting  one,  may  as  one  fight,  let  it  be 
agreed  that  of  these  ten  one  be  chosen  one  to  fight, 
so  shall  one  fight  one  and  every  one  be  satisfied  — 
every  one  of  these  ten  fighting  one,  one  by  one. 
Thus  shall  ten  be  one,  and  one  ten  fight  one  by  one 
till  one  be  discomfited.  Shall  we  accord  the  matter 
simply,  thus?" 

"Sir,"  quoth  the  Chief  Herald,  gasping  a  little, 
"Amen!" 

"O!"  cried  the  Duchess,  clapping  her  hands, 
"O  Yolande,  hark  to  this  rare  esquire!  Surely,  I 
have  heard  yon  cunning  tongue  ere  this?" 

But  Yolande  gazed  ever  where  Sir  Palamon,  hav- 
ing taken  his  station,  set  himself  in  array.  For  now, 
the  ten  knights  having  chosen  one  to  represent  them, 

175 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

forth  rode  their  champion  resplendent  in  shining 
mail  and  green  surcoat  with  heralds  before  to  pro- 
claim his  name  and  rank. 

"Yolande,"  quoth  the  Duchess  softly,  "pray  — 
pray  this  Lord  of  Tong  may  tilt  as  bravely  as  he 
doth  sing,  for  Sir  Thomas  of  Thornydyke  is  a  notable 
jouster." 

The  trumpets  blew  a  fanfare  and,  levelling  their 
pointless  lances,  both  knights  gave  spur,  their  great 
horses  reared,  broke  into  a  gallop  and  thundered 
towards  each  other. 

But  hard  midway  upon  the  green  surcoat, 

Sir  Palamon's  stout  lance  so  truly  smote, 

That,  'neath  the  shock,  the  bold  Sir  Thomas  reeled 

And,  losing  stirrups,  saddle,  lance  and  shield, 

Down,  down  upon  the  ling  outstretched  he  fell 

And,  losing  all,  lost  breath  and  speech  as  well. 

Thus,  silent  all,  the  bold  Sir  Thomas  lay, 

Though   much,   and   many   things,   he  yearned   to 

#say,  ^ 
Which  things  his  squires  and  pages  might  surmise 
From  the  expression  of  his  fish-like  eyes 
E'en  as  they  bore  him  from  that  doleful  place ; 
While,  near  and  far,  from  all  the  populace, 
Rose  shout  on  shout  that  echoed  loud  and  long  : 
"Sir  Palamon  !     Sir  Palamon  of  Tong  !" 
So  came  these  ten  good  knights,  but,  one  by  one, 
They  fell  before  this  bold  Sir  Palamon, 
Whose  lance  unerring  smote  now  helm,  now  shield, 
That  many  an  one  lay  rolling  on  the  field. 
But  each  and  all  themselves  did  vanquished  yield ; 
And  loud  and  louder  did  the  plaudits  grow, 
That  one  knight  should  so  many  overthrow. 
Even  Sir  Gui,  within  his  silken  tent 
Scowled  black  in  ever-growing  wonderment. 

176 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

But  the  Knight  of  Tong,  his  gaudy  shield  a  little 
battered,  his  fine  surcoat  frayed  and  torn,  leaped 
from  his  wearied  steed  and  forthwith  mounted  one 
held  by  his  tall  esquire,  a  mighty  charger  that  tossed 
proud  head  and  champed  his  bit,  pawing  impatient 
hoof. 

"Aha!"  quoth  the  esquire,  pointing  to  ten  fair 
steeds  held  by  ten  fair  pages.  "Oho,  good  brother, 
most  puissant  Knight  of  Tong,  here  is  good  and  rich 
booty  —  let  us  begone  !  " 

"Nay,"  answered  the  Knight,  tossing  aside  his 
blunt  tilting-spear,  "here  is  an  end  to  sportful 
dalliance  —  reach  me  my  lance  !" 

"Ha,  is 't  now  the  Red  Gui's  turn,  brother? 
The  Saints  aid  thee,  in  especial  two,  that,  being 
women,  are  yet  no  saints  yet  awhile  —  see  how  they 
watch  thee,  sweet,  gentle  dames !  Their  prayers 
go  with  thee,  methinks,  brother,  and  mine  also,  for 
the  Red  Gui  is  forsooth  a  valiant  rogue !" 

And  now,  mounted  on  the  great  black  war-horse, 
the  Knight  of  Tong  rode  up  the  lists  : 

His  scarlet  plume  'bove  shining  helm  a-dance, 
His  bannerole  a-flutter  from  long  lance, 
Till  he  was  come  where,  plain  for  all  to  spy, 
Was  hung  the  shield  and  blazon  of  Sir  Gui, 
With  bends  and  bars  in  all  their  painted  glory, 
Surcharged  with  hand  ensanguined  —  gules  or  gory. 

Full  upon  this  bloody  hand  smote  the  sharp  point 
of  Sir  Palamon's  lance;  whereupon  the  watching 
crowd  surged  and  swayed  and  hummed  expectant, 
since  here  was  to  be  no  play  with  blunted  weapons 
but  a  deadly  encounter. 

Up  started  Sir  Gui  and  strode  forth  of  his  tent, 
grim-smiling  and  confident.     Quoth  he  : 

177 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Ha,  my  Lord  of  Tong,  thou  'rt  grown  pre- 
sumptuous and  over- venturesome,  methinks.  But 
since  life  thou  dost  hold  so  cheap  prepare  ye  for 
death  forthright !" 

So  spake  the  Lord  of  Ells  and,  beckoning  to  his 
esquires,  did  on  his  great  tilting-helm  and  rode  into 
the  lists,  whereon  was  mighty  roar  of  welcome,  for, 
though  much  hated,  he  was  esteemed  mighty  at  arms, 
and  the  accepted  champion  of  the  Duchy.  So  while 
the  people  thundered  their  acclaim  the  two  knights 
galloped  to  their  stations  and,  reining  about,  faced 
each  other  from  either  end  of  the  lists. 

And  halted  thus,  their  deadly  spears  they  couched, 
With  helms  stooped  low,  behind  their  shields  they 

crouched ; 
Now  rang  the  clarions ;  goading  spurs  struck  deep, 
The  mighty  chargers  reared  with  furious  leap 
And,  like  two  whirlwinds,  met  in  full  career, 
To  backward  reel  'neath  shock  of  splintering  spear : 
But,  all  unshaken,  every  eye  might  see 
The  bloody  hand,  the  scarred  gules  falcons  three. 
Thrice  thus  they  met,  but  at  the  fourth  essay, 
Rose  sudden  shout  of  wonder  and  dismay, 
For,  smitten  sore  through  riven  shield,  Sir  Gui 
Thudded  to  earth  there  motionless  to  lie. 

Thus  Sir  Gui,  Lord  of  Ells  and  Seneschal  of 
Raddemore,  wounded  and  utterly  discomfited,  was 
borne  raging  to  his  pavilion  while  the  air  rang  with 
the  blare  of  trumpet  and  clarion  in  honour  of  the 
victor.  Thereafter,  since  no  other  knight  thought 
it  prudent  to  challenge  him,  Sir  Palamon  of  Tong  was 
declared  champion  of  the  tournament,  and  was 
summoned  by  the  Chief  Herald  to  receive  the  victor's 
crown.     But  even  as  he  rode  towards  the  silk-cur- 

i78 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

tained  balcony,  a  distant  trumpet  shrilled  defiance, 
and  into  the  lists  galloped  a  solitary  knight. 

Well-armed  was  he  in  proud  and  war-like  trim, 
Of  stature  tall  and  wondrous  long  of  limb ; 
'Neath  red  surcoat  black  was  the  mail  he  wore ; 
His  glitt'ring  shield  a  rampant  leopard  bore, 
Beholding  which  the  crowd  cried  in  acclaim, 
"Ho  for  Sir  Agramore  of  Biename !" 

But  from  rosy-red  to  pale,  from  pale  to  rosy-red 
flushed  the  Duchess  Benedicta,  and  clenching  white 
teeth,  she  frowned  upon  Sir  Agramore's  fierce  and 
warlike  figure.     Quoth  she  : 

"Oh,  sure  there  is  no  man  so  vile  or  so  unworthy 
in  all  Christendom  as  this  vile  Lord  of  Biename !" 

"Unless,"  said  Yolande,  frowning  also,  "unless  it 
be  my  Lord  Gui  of  Ells !" 

"  True,  my  Yolanda !  Now,  as  thou  dost  hate 
Sir  Gui  so  hate  I  Sir  Agramore,  therefore  pray  we 
sweet  maid,  petition  we  the  good  Saints  our  valiant 
singer  shall  serve  my  hated  Sir  Agramore  as  he  did 
thy  hated  Sir  Gui  —  may  he  be  bruised,  may  he 
be  battered,  may " 

"Oho,  't  is  done,  my  sweeting  !  A-hee  —  a-hi,  't  is 
done!"  croaked  a  voice,  and  starting  about,  the 
Duchess  beheld  a  bent  and  hag-like  creature, 

With  long,  sharp  nose  that  showed  beneath  her  hood, 
A  nose  that  curved  as  every  witch's  should, 
And  glittering  eye,  before  whose  baleful  light, 
The  fair  Yolande  shrank  back  in  sudden  fright. 

"Nay,  my  Yolande,"  cried  the  Duchess,  "hast 
forgot  old  Mopsa,  my  foster-mother,  that,  being  a 
wise- woman,  fools  decry  as  witch,  and  my  ten  grave 

179 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

and  learned  guardians  have  banished  therefor? 
Hast  forgot  my  loved  and  faithful  Mopsa  that  is 
truly  the  dearest,  gentlest,  wisest  witch  that  e'er 
witched  rogue  or  fool?  But  O  Mopsa,  wise  mother 
—  would'st  thou  might  plague  and  bewitch  in  very 
truth  yon  base  caitiff  knight,  Sir  Agramore  of 
Biename ! " 

"  'T  is  done,  loved  daughter,  't  is  done  ! "  chuckled 
the  Witch. 


a 


He  groaneth, 
He  moaneth, 
He  aileth, 
He  waileth, 
Lying  sighing, 
Nigh  to  dying, 

Oho, 

I  know 

'T  is  so. 
With  bones  right  sore, 
Both  'hind  and  fore, 
Sir  Agramore 
Doth  ache  all  o'er. 


"  He  aileth  sore  yet  waileth  more  —  oho  !  I  know, 
I  have  seen  —  in  the  chalk,  in  the  ink,  in  the  smoke 
—  I  looked  and  saw 

"Sir  Agramore, 
By  bold  outlaw, 
Bethwacked  most  sore 
As  told  before " 

"Nay,  but,  good  Mopsa,  how  may  this  be?  Sir 
Agramore  rideth  armed  yonder,  plain  to  my  sight." 

1 80 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Child,  I  have  told  thee  sooth,"  croaked  the 
Witch.  "Have  patience,  watch  and  be  silent,  and 
shalt  grow  wise  as  old  Mopsa  —  mayhap  —  in  time. 

"For,  'tis  written  in  the  chalk, 
Sore  is  he  and  may  not  walk. 
O,  sing  heart  merrily  ! 
I  have  seen  within  the  smoke 
Bones  bethwacked  by  lusty  stroke, 
Within  the  ink  I  looked  and  saw, 
Swathed  in  clouts,  Sir  Agramore ; 
Dread  of  him  for  thee  is  o'er, 
By  reason  of  a  bold  outlaw. 
Sing,  heart,  and  joyful  be  !" 

"Go  to,  Mopsa,  thou 'rt  mad!"  quoth  the 
Duchess.  "For  yonder  is  this  hated  lord  very 
strong  and  hale,  and  in  well-being  whiles  thou  dost 
rave  !     Truly  thou  'rt  run  mad,  methinks  ! " 

But  the  old  Witch  only  mumbled  and  mowed, 
and  cracked  her  finger-bones  as  is  the  custom  of 
witches. 

Meantime,  Sir  Agramore,  checking  his  fiery 
charger  and  brandishing  heavy  lance  fiercely  aloft, 
roared  loud  defiance : 

"What  ho!  Ye  knights,  lords,  esquires,  and 
lovers  of  lusty  blows,  hither  come  I  with  intent, 
sincere  and  hearty,  to  bicker  with,  fight,  combat 
and  withstand  all  that  will  —  each  and  every, 
a-horse  or  a-foot,  with  sword,  battleaxe  or  lance. 
Now  all  ye  that  love  good  blows  —  have  at  ye  !" 

Here  ensued  great  clamour  and  a  mighty  blowing 
of  trumpets  that  waxed  yet  louder  when  it  was 
proclaimed  that  Sir  Palamon,  as  champion  of  the 
day,  had  accepted  Sir  Agramore's  haughty  challenge. 

And  now  all  was  hushed  as  these  two  doughty 

181 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

knights  faced  each  other  and,  as  the  trumpets  brayed, 
charged  furiously  to  meet  with  thunderous  shock 
of  breaking  lances  and  reeling  horses  that,  rearing 
backwards,  fell  crashing  upon  the  torn  and  trampled 
grass.  But  their  riders,  leaping  clear  of  lashing 
hooves,  drew  their  swords  and,  wasting  no  breath 
in  words,  beset  each  other  forthwith,  smiting  with 
right  good  will. 

Sir  Agramore's  leopard  shield  was  riven  in  twain  by 
a  single  stroke,  Sir  Palamon's  scarlet  plume  was 
shorn  away,  but  they  fought  only  the  fiercer  as, 
all  untiring,  the  long  blades  whirled  and  flashed  un- 
til their  armour  rang,  sparks  flew,  and  the  populace 
rocked  and  swayed  and  roared  for  very  joy.  Once 
Sir  Agramore  was  beaten  to  his  knees,  but  rising, 
grasped  his  sword  in  two  hands  and  smote  a  mighty 
swashing  blow,  a  direful  stroke  that  burst  the  lacing 
of  Sir  Palamon's  great  helm  and  sent  it  rolling  on 
the  sward.  But,  beholding  thus  his  adversary's 
face,  Sir  Agramore,  crying  in  sudden  amaze,  sprang 
back ;  for  men  all  might  see  a  visage  framed  in  long, 
black-curled  hair,  grey-eyed,  but  a  face  so  direly 
scarred  that  none,  having  seen  it  but  once,  might 
well  forget. 

"  Par  Dex  ! "   panted  Sir  Agramore,  lifting  his  vizor. 

"Pertinax  !"  gasped  Duke  Jocelyn.  "O  Pertinax 
—  thou  loved  and  lovely  smiter  —  ne'er  have  I  been 
so  sore  battered  ere  now !" 

Hereupon  all  folk  stared  in  hugeous  wonderment 
to  behold  these  two  champions  drop  their  swords 
and  leap  to  clasp  and  hug  each  other  in  mighty 
arms,  to  pat  each  other's  mailed  shoulders  and  grasp 
each  other's  mailed  hands.     Quoth  Sir  Pertinax : 

"Lord,  how  came  ye  in  this  guise?" 

"My  Pertinax,  whence  stole  ye  that  goodly 
armour?" 

182 


2T1k  long  bhitirs  Uilmliti  anti  fholirti. 


ifcgc  182 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Lord,  oath  made  I  to  requite  one  Sir  Agramore 
of  Biename  for  certain  felon  blow.  Him  sought  I 
latterly  therefore,  and  this  day  met  him  journey- 
ing hither,  and  so,  after  some  disputation,  I  left 
him  lying  by  the  way,  nor  shall  he  need  armour 
awhile,  methinks  —  wherefore  I  took  it  and  rode 
hither  seeking  what  might  befall " 

But  here,  Sir  Gui,  all  heedless  of  his  wound, 
started  up  from  his  couch,  raising  great  outcry : 

"Ha  —  roguery,  roguery!  Ho,  there,  seize  me 
yon  knave  that  beareth  the  cognizance  of  Tong. 
Ha  —  treason,  treason!"  At  this,  others  took  up 
the  cry  and  divers  among  the  throng,  beholding 
Duke  Jocelvn's  scarred  features,  made  loud  tumults  : 
"The  Foofj  The  Fool !  'T  is  the  Singing  Motley  ! 
'T  is  the  rogue-Fool  that  broke  prison  —  seize  him  ! 
Seize  him  !"  And  many,  together  with  the  soldiery, 
came  running. 

"Lord,"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  catching  up  his 
sword,  "here  now  is  like  to  be  a  notable,  sweet 
affray!"  But  even  as  these  twain  turned  to  meet 
their  many  assailants  was  thunder  of  hoofs,  a  loud, 
merry  voice  reached  them,  and  they  saw  Robin  hard 
by  who  held  two  trampling  chargers. 

"  Mount,  brothers  —  mount ! "  he  cried.  "  Mount, 
then  spur  we  for  the  barriers  !"  So  they  sprang  to 
saddle  and,  spurring  the  rearing  horses,  galloped 
for  the  barriers,  all  three,  nor  was  there  any  who 
dare  stay  them  or  abide  the  sweep  of  those  long 
swords.  Thus,  leaping  the  barriers,  they  galloped 
away  and  left  behind  roaring  tumult  and  dire  con- 
fusion. 

And  amid  all  this,  hid  by  the  silken  curtains  of 
her  balcony,  the  Duchess  Benedicta  uttered  a 
joyous  cry  and,  clasping  Yolande  in  her  arms,  kissed 
her  rapturously. 

183 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Yolande!"  she  cried,  "0  dear  my  friend,  thou 
didst  see  —  even  as  did  I  —  a  sorry  fool  and  a  poor 
rogue-soldier  at  hand-strokes  with  each  other  —  O 
wise  Fool !  O  knightly  Rogue !  Come,  let  us  fly, 
Yolande,  let  us  to  the  wild-wood  and,  lost  therein, 
love,  True-love,  methinks,  shall  find  us.  Nay  — 
ask  me  nothing,  only  hear  this.  Be  thou  to  thine 
own  heart  true,  be  thou  brave  and  Shame  shall  fly 
thee  since  True-love  out-faceth  Shame  !  How  say'st 
thou,  Mopsa,  thou  wise  witch-mother?" 

"Ah,  sweet  children  !"  croaked  the  Witch,  touch- 
ing each  with  claw-like  hand  yet  hand  wondrous 
gentle.  "True-love  shall  indeed  find  ye,  hide  where 
ye  will.  For  True-love,  though  blind,  they  say, 
hath  eyes  to  see  all  that  is  good  and  sweet  and  true. 
A  poor  man-at-arms  in  rusty  mail  may  yet  be  true 
man  and  a  fool,  for  all  his  motley,  wise.  To  love 
such  seemeth  great  folly,  yet  to  the  old,  love  is  but 
folly.  Nath'less,  being  old  I  do  love  ye,  and  being 
wise  I  charge  ye  : 

"Follow  Folly  and  be  wise, 
In  such  folly  wisdom  lies ; 
Love 's  blind,  they  say,  but  Love  hath  eves, 
So  follow  Folly  —  follow  !" 

My  daughter  gillian  animadverteth : 

Gill:      "Stop!     Your  tournament,  father,  seems  too 
long  drawn  out, 
With  quite  too  much  combating  and  knock- 
ing about. 
Myself  :  I  hope  you  're  wrong,  my  dear,  although 

Who  knows  ?     Perhaps,  it  may  be  so. 
Gill:        And  such  scrappy  bits  of  love-making  you 
write ; 
You  seem  to  prefer  much  describing  a  fight. 

184 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

All  authors  should  write  what  their  readers 

like  best ; 
But  authors  are  selfish,  yes  —  even  the  best 
And  you  are  an  author  ! 
Myself  :  Alack,  that  is  true, 

And,  among  other  things,   I  'm  the  author 

of  you. 
Gill  :        Then,  being  my  author,  it 's  plain  as  can  be 
That  you  are  to  blame  if  I  'm  naughty  —  not 

me. 
But,  father,  our  Geste,  though  quite  corking 

in  places, 
Has  too  many  fights  and  too  little  embraces. 
You  've  made  all  our  lovers  so  frightfully 

slow, 
You  ought  to  have  married  them  pages  ago. 
The  books  that  are  nicest  are  always  the  sort 
That,  when  you  have  read  them,  seem  al- 
ways too  short ! 
If  you  make  all  your  readers  impatient  like 

me, 
They  '11  buy  none  of  your  books  —  and  then 

where  shall  we  be  ? 
All  people  like  reading  of  love  when  they  can, 
So  write  them  a  lot,  father,  that  is  the  plan. 
Go  on  to  the  love,  then,  for  every  one's  sake, 

And  end  with  a  wedding 

Myself  :  Your  counsel  I  '11  take. 

I  can  woo  them  and  wed  them  in  less  than 

no  time, 
I  can  do  it  in  prose,  in  blank  verse,  or  in 

rhyme ; 
But  since,  my  dear,  you  are  for  speed, 
To  end  our  Geste  I  will  proceed. 
In  many  ways  it  may  be  done, 
As  I  have  told  you  —  here  is  one  : 

A  short  two  years  have  elapsed  and  we  find  our  hero 
Jocelyn  tenderly  playing  with  a  golden-haired  prattler, 

I85 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

his  beloved  son  and  heir,  while  his  beautiful  spouse  Yolande 
busied  with  her  needle,  smiles  through  happy  tears. 

Gill  :        O,  hush,  father !    Of  course,  that  is  simply 
absurd ! 

Such  terrible  piffle 

Myself  :  I  object  to  that  word ! 

Gill  :         Well,  then,  please  try  a  little  verse. 
Myself  :  With  pleasure : 

"My  own  at  last !"  Duke  Joc'lyn  fondly  cried, 
And  kissed  Yolande,  his  blooming,  blushing  bride. 
"My  own  !"  he  sighed.     "My  own  —  my  very  own!" 
"Thine,  love!"  she  murmured.    "Thine  and  thine  alone, 
Thy  very  own  for  days  and  months  and  years " 

Gill  :         O,  stop  !     I  think  that 's  even  worse ! 
Myself  :  Beyond  measure. 

Then  here  's  a  style  may  be  admired 
Since  brevity  is  so  desired  : 

So  he  married  her  and  she  married  him,  and  everybody 
married  each  other  and  lived  happy  ever  after. 

Or  again,  and  thus,  my  daughter, 
Versified  it  may  be  shorter : 

So  all  was  marriage,  joy  and  laughter, 
And  each  lived  happy  ever  after. 

Or: 

If  for  High  Romance  you  sigh, 
Here  's  Romance  that 's  over  high : 

Shy  summer  swooned  to  autumn's  sun-burned  arms, 

Swoon,  summer,  swoon ! 
While  roses  bloomed  and  blushing  sighed  their  pain, 

Blush,  roses,  blush ! 

1 86 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Filling  the  world  with  perfume  languorous, 
Sighing  forth  their  souls  in  fragrant  amorousness ; 
And  fair  Yolande,  amid  these  bloomful  languors, 
Blushing  as  they,  as  languorous,  as  sweet, 
Sighed  in  the  arms  that  passioned  her  around : 

O  Jocelyn,  O  lord  of  my  delight, 

See  how 

Gill  :        Stop,  father,  stop,  I  beg  of  you. 
Such  awful  stuff  will  never  do, 
I  suppose  you  must  finish  it  in  your  own 
way 

Myself  :  I  suppose  that  I  shall,  child,  that  is  —  if  I 
may. 

Gill  :         But  father,  wait  —  I  must  insist 
Whatever  else  you  do 
It 's  time  that  somebody  was  kissed 
It  does  n't  matter  who  — 
I  mean  either  Yolande  the  Fair 
Or  else  the  Duchess  —  I  don't  care  . 

Myself  :  In  these  next  two  Fyttes  both  shall  kiss 
And  be  well  kissed,  I  promise  this. 
Two  Fyttes  of  kisses  I  will  make 
One  after  t'  other,  for  your  sake. 
Two  Fyttes  of  love  I  will  invent 
And  make  them  both  quite  different, 
Which  is  a  trying  matter  rather 
And  difficult  for  any  father  — 
But  then,  as  well  you  know,  my  Gillian, 
You  have  a  father  in  a  million ; 
And  Oh,  methinks  't  is  very  plain 
You  ne'er  shall  meet  his  like  again. 


187 


FYTTE   11 

How  Pertinax  fell  out  with  Robin  and  with  Friar, 
Yet,  in  that  very  hour,  came  by  his  heart's  desire. 


The  sinking  sun  had  set  the  West  aflame, 
When  our  three  riders  to  the  wild-wood  came, 
Where  a  small  wind  'mid  sun-kissed  branches  played, 
And  deep'ning  shadows  a  soft  twilight  made; 
Where,  save  for  leafy  stirrings,  all  was  still, 
Lulled  by  the  murmur  of  a  bubbling  rill 
That  flowed  o'ershadowed  by  a  mighty  oak, 
Its  massy  bole  deep-cleft  by  lightning  stroke. 
Here  Robin   checked   his   steed.      "Good  friends," 
quoth  he, 

My  daughter  gillian  suggesteth  : 

Gill  :        That 's  rather  good, 

But,  still,  I  should 

In  prose  prefer  the  rest ; 

For  if  this  fytte 

Has  love  in  it, 

Prose  is  for  love  the  best. 

All  ord'nary  lovers,  as  every  one  knows, 

Make  love  to  each  other  much  better  in  prose. 

If,  at  last,  our  Sir  Pertinax  means  to  propose, 

Why  then  —  just  to  please  me, 

Father,  prose  let  it  be. 
Myself  :  Very  well,  I  agree ! 

Then  said  Robin,  quoth  he  : 

188 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Good  friends,  here  are  we  safe  !"  And,  checking 
his  steed  within  this  pleasant  shade,  he  dismounted. 

"Safe,  quotha?"  said  Sir  Pertinax,  scowling  back 
over  shoulder.  "Not  so!  Surely  we  are  close 
pursued  —  hark !  Yonder  be  horsemen  riding  at 
speed  —  ha,  we  are  beset !" 

"Content  you,  sir!"  answered  Robin.  "Think 
you  I  would  leave  behind  good  booty?  Yonder 
come  ten  noble  coursers  laden  with  ten  goodly 
armours  the  same  won  a- jousting  to-day  by  this 
right  wondrous  Fool,  my  good  gossip " 

"Thy  gossip,  forsooth!"  snorted  Sir  Pertinax. 
"But  tell  me,  presumptuous  fellow,  how  shall  these 
ten  steeds  come  a-galloping  hither  !" 

"Marry,  on  this  wise,  Sir  Simple  Innocence  — 
these  steeds  do  gallop  for  sufficient  reason,  namely 
—  they  are  to  gallop  bidden  being  ridden,  bestridden 
and  chidden  by  whip  and  spur  applied  by  certain 
trusty  men  o'  my  company,  which  men  go  habited, 
decked,  dressed,  clad,  guised  and  disguised  as  smug, 
sleek  citizens,  Sir  Innocent  Simplicity " 

"Par  Dex!"  exclaimed  Sir  Pertinax,  scowling. 
"And  who  'rt  thou,  sirrah,  with  men  at  thy  beck 
and  call?" 

"Behold!"  said  Robin,  unhelming.  "Behold  the 
king  of  all  masterless  rogues,  and  thy  fellow gallow's- 
bird,  Sir  High  Mightiness  !" 

"Ha,  is 't  thou?"  cried  Sir  Pertinax.  "Now  a 
plague  on  thy  kingdom  and  thee  for  an  unhanged, 
thieving  rogue " 

"E'en  as  thyself,"  nodded  Robin,  "thou  that 
flaunted  thy  unlovely  carcass  in  stolen  armour." 

"Ha!"  roared  Sir  Pertinax,  clapping  hand  on 
sword.  "A  pest  —  a  murrain!  This  to  me,  thou 
dog's-meat  ?  Malediction  !  Now  will  I  crack  thy 
numbskull  for  a  pestilent  malapert  — 

189 


>> 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Nay,  Sir  Grim-and-gory,"  laughed  Robin, 
"rather  will  I  now  use  thee  as  thou  would'st  ha' 
served  me  on  a  day  but  for  this  generous  and  kindly 
Fool,  my  good  comrade!"  And  speaking,  Robin 
sprang  nimbly  to  the  great  oak  tree  and  thrusting 
long  arm  within  the  jagged  fissure  that  gaped  therein 
drew  forth  a  hunting-horn  and  winded  it  loud  and 
shrill.  And  presently  was  a  stir,  a  rustle  amid  the 
surrounding  brushwood  and  all  about  them  were 
outlaws,  wild  men  and  fierce  of  aspect,  and  each 
and  every  grasped  long-bow  with  arrow  on  string 
and  every  arrow  was  aimed  at  scowling  Sir  Pertinax. 

"Per  Dex !"   quoth  he,  "and  is  this  death,  then  ?" 

"Verily!"  nodded  Robin,  "an  I  do  speak  the 
word." 

"  So  be  it  —  speak  ! "  growled  Sir  Pertinax. 
"Come,  Death  —  I  fear  thee  not!"  And  out 
flashed  his  long  sword ;  but  even  then  it  was  twisted 
from  his  grasp  and  Lobkyn  Lollo,  tossing  the  great 
blade  aloft  and,  catching  it  very  featly,  laughed 
and  spake : 

"Five  times,  five  times  ten 
Are  we,  all  lusty  men. 
An  hundred  twice  and  fifty  deaths  are  we, 
So,  an  Rob  speak,  dead  thou  'It  as  often  be." 

"Nay,  hold  a  while,  sweet  lads !"  laughed  Robin, 
"the  surly  rogue  shall  sing  for  his  life  and  our  good 
pleasaunce." 

"Sing?"  roared  Sir  Pertinax.  "I  sing!  I?  Ha, 
dare  ye  bid  me  so,  base  dog  ?  Sing,  forsooth  ?  By 
Og  and  Gog !  By  the  Seven  Champions  and  all 
the  fiends,  rather  will  I  die!"  And  here,  being  de- 
fenceless, Sir  Pertinax  clenched  mighty  fists  and 
swore  until  he  lacked  for  breath. 

190 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Then  spake  Jocelyn,  gentle-voiced. 

"Sing,  Pertinax,"  quoth  he. 

"  Ha  —  never  !     Not  for  all  the " 


<<  - 


:I  do  command  thee,  Pertinax.  As  Robin  once 
sang  for  his  life,  now  must  thou  sing  for  thine.  Song 
for  song,  't  is  but  just !     Sing,  Pertinax  ! " 

"Nay,"  groaned  the  proud  knight,  "I  had  rather 
drink  water  and  chew  grass  like  a  rabbit.  Moreover 
I  ha'  no  gift  o'  song " 

"Do  thy  best!"  quoth  Robin. 

"I  'm  harsh  o'  voice  —  knave  !" 

"Then  croak  —  rogue  !"  quoth  Robin. 

"No  song  have  I  —  vermin  !" 

"Make  one  —  carrion!  But  sing  thou  shalt 
though  thy  song  be  no  better  than  hog-song  which  is 
grunt.     Howbeit  sing  thou  must !" 

Hereupon  Sir  Pertinax  gnashed  his  teeth  and 
glaring  balefully  on  Robin  lifted  hoarse  voice  and 
burst  forth  into  fierce  song  : 

"Thou  base  outlaw, 
Vile  clapper-claw, 
Since  I  must  sing  a  stave, 
Then,  here  and  now, 
I  do  avow 

Thou  art  a  scurvy  knave ! 
Thy  hang-dog  air 
Doth  plain  declare 
Thou  'rt  very  scurvy  knave. 

"Rogues  breed  apace 
In  each  vile  place, 
But  this  I  will  avow, 
Where  e'er  rogues  be 
No  man  may  see 
A  viler  rogue  than  thou, 

191 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Since  it  were  vain 

To  meet  again 

A  rogue  more  vile  than  thou. 

"As  rogue  thou  art, 
In  every  part, 
Then " 


"Hold  there  —  hold!"  cried  Robin,  stopping  his 
ears.  "Thy  voice  is  unlovely  as  thy  look  and  thy 
song  as  ill  as  thy  voice,  so  do  we  forgive  thee  the 
rest.     Ha'  done  thy  bellowing  and  begone " 

"Ha  —  not  so  !"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax.  "For  troth 
I  do  sing  better  than  methought  possible,  and  my 
rhyming  is  none  so  ill !  So  will  I  rhyme  thy  every 
knavish  part  and  sing  song  till  song  and  rhyme  be 
ended.     Have  at  thee  again,  base  fellow  ! 

Since  rogue  thou  art 
In  every  part  —  part  — 

Ha,  plague  on  't,  hast  put  me  out,  rogue !  I  was 
about  to  hang  thy  every  roguish  part  in  rhyme,  but 
my  rhymes  halt  by  reason  o'  thee,  rogue." 

"  Forsooth  ! "  laughed  Robin.  "  Thus  stickest  thou, 
for  thy  part,  at  my  every  part,  the  which  is  well 
since  I  am  man  of  parts.  Thus  then  rhyme  thou 
rhymes  upon  thyself  therefore;  thus,  thyself  rhym- 
ing rhymes  of  thee,  thou  shalt  thyself,  rhyming  of 
thyself,  thyself  pleasure  thereby,  thou  thus  rhyming 
of  thee,  and  thee,  thou.  Thus  thy  thee  and  thou 
shall  be  well  accorded.     How  think'st  thou?" 

But  Sir  Pertinax,  astride  his  charger  that  cropped 
joyously  at  sweet,  cool  grass,  sat  chin  on  fist,  lost 
in  the  throes  of  composition,  nothing  heeding,  even 
when  came  the  ten  steeds  with  the  ten  suits  of  armour. 

192 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Now  these  ten  horses  bare  eleven  riders,  tall,  lusty 
fellows  all,  save  one  shrouded  in  hood  and  cloak 
and  whom  Jocelyn  viewed  with  quick,  keen  eyes. 
And  thus  he  presently  whispered  Robin  who,  laugh- 
ing slyly,  made  signal  to  his  followers,  whereupon, 
by  ones  and  twos  they  stole  silently  away  until 
there  none  remained  save  only  Sir  Pertinax  who, 
wrestling  with  his  muse,  stared  aloft  under  knitted 
brows,  all  unknowing,  and  presently  brake  out 
singing  on  this  wise  : 

"All  men  may  see 
A  man  in  me, 

A  man  who  feareth  no  man, 
Thus,  fearless,  I 
No  danger  fly " 


a- 


'' Except  it  be  a  woman  !"  sang  a  soft,  sweet  voice 
hard  by,  in  pretty  mockery.  Hereat  Sir  Pertinax 
started  so  violently  that  his  mail  clashed  and  he 
stared  about  him  eager-eyed  but,  finding  himself 
quite  alone,  sighed  and  fell  to  reverie. 

"A  woman?"    said  he  aloud.     "'Except  it  be  a 
woman '" 

The  Voice  :  Aye  —  a  woman,  O  craven  soldier ! 

Sir  Pertinax  :   Why  here  is  strange  echo  methinks 
and  speaketh  —  with  her  voice  ! 

The  Voice  :  '  O  voice  so  soft  and  full  of  sweet  allure  ! ' 

Sir  Pertinax  :    O  voice  beloved  that  might  my 
dolour  cure ! 

The    Voice  :     O    craven    soldier !     O    most    timid 
wooer ! 

193 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Sir  Pertinax  :   Craven  am  I,  yet  lover  —  'tis  most 
sure. 

The  Voice  :    But  thou  *rt  a  man  —  at  least   me- 
seemeth  so. 

Sir  Pertinax  :   And,  being  man,  myself  unworthy 

know, 
Yet  must  I  love  and  my  beloved  seek 
And,  finding  her,  no  words  of  love  dare  speak. 
For  this  my  love  beyond  all  words  doth  reach, 
And  I  'm  slow-tongued  and  lack  the  trick  of  speech. 
Nor  hope  have  I  that  she  should  stoop  to  bless, 
A  man  so  full  of  all  un worthiness. 
So  am  I  dumb 

The  Voice  :  And  yet  dost  speak  indeed, 

Such  words,  methinks,  as  any  maid  might  heed. 

"Ha,  think  ye  so  in  verity,  sweet  voice!"  cried 
Sir  Pertinax,  and  springing  lightly  to  earth,  strode 
forward  on  eager  feet.  And  lo !  from  behind  a 
certain  tree  stepped  one  who,  letting  fall  shrouding 
cloak  and  hood,  stood  there  a  maid,  dark-haired 
and  darkly  bright  of  eye,  very  shapely  and  fair  to 
see  in  her  simple  tire.  And  beholding  her  thus,  the 
tender  curve  of  scarlet  lips,  the  flutter  of  slender 
hands,  the  languorous  bewitchment  of  her  eyes,  Sir 
Pertinax  halted. 

My  daughter  gillian  interpolated  : 

Gill  :        What,  again  ?     Father,  that  will  never  do. 
Don't  make  him  halt  again,  I  beg  of  you. 
Sir  Pertinax  has  halted  much  too  long, 
To  make  him  do  it  here  would  be  quite 


wrong! 


194 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Myself  :  My  child,  I  wish  you  would  not  interrupt 
My  halting  muse  in  manner  so  abrupt 


Gill  :         But  here  's  a  chance  at  last  to  let  them  kiss, 

And  now  you  make  him  halt ! 
Myself  :  Exactly,  miss ! 

Sir  Pertinax  halted  and  bowed  his  head  abashed. 
My  daughter  gillian  persisteth  : 

Gill:         Well,  father,  while  he  halts,  then  tell  me, 

pray, 
Just  what  you  mean  by  that  line  where  you 

say, 
'  The  languorous  bewitchment  of  her  eyes '  ? 
Myself  :  My  child,  no  child  should  authors  catechise, 
Especially,  poor  fellow,  if,  like  me; 
Father  and  author  both  at  once  is  he. 
Wise  authors  all  such  questions  strictly  ban, 
And  never  answer  —  even  if  they  can. 
If  of  our  good  knight's  wooing   you  would 

hear, 
Keep   stilly   tongue   and   hearken   well,   my 

dear. 

Sir  Pertinax  halted  and  bowed  his  head,  abashed 
by  her  beauty. 

"Melissa!"  he  whispered,  "O  Melissa!"  and  so 
stood  mute. 

"O  Pertinax!"  she  sighed.  "Art  dumb  at  sight 
of  me?     O  Pertinax,  and  wherefore ? " 

"All  have  I  forgot  save  only  thy  loveliness, 
Melissa!" 

"Methinks  such  —  forgetfulness  becometh  thee 
well.     Say  on  !" 

"Ah,  Melissa,  I  —  do  love  thee." 

"  Why  this  I  knew  when  thou  didst  sit  a-fishing ! " 

195 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"But,  indeed,  then  I  dreamed  not  of  loving  thee 
or  any  maid." 

"Because  thou  art  but  a  man." 

"Verily,  and  being  man,  now  came  I  seeking  thee 
for  Love's  sweet  sake  yet,  rinding  thee,  know  not  how 
to  speak  thee.     Alas,  I  do  fear  I  am  but  sorry  wooer  ! " 

"Alas,  Pertinax,  I  do  fear  thou  art!  Yet  thou 
shalt  learn,  perchance.  How  —  art  dumb  again, 
canst  speak  me  no  more?" 

"Nought  —  save  only  this,  thou  art  beyond  all 
maids  fair,  Melissa !" 

"Why,  I  do  think  thou  'It  make  a  wooer  some  day 
mayhap,  by  study  diligent.  'Twill  take  long  time 
and  yet  —  I  would  not  have  thee  learn  too  soon ! 
And  hast  thought  of  me ?     A  little?" 

"I  have  borne  thee  ever  within  my  heart." 

"And  wherefore  wilt  love  maid  so  lowly?" 

"For  that  thou  art  thyself  and  thyself  —  Melissa. 
And  O,  I  love  thy  voice  ! " 

"  My  voice  ?     And  what  more  ?  " 

"Thine  eyes.  Thy  little,  pretty  feet.  Thy  scarlet 
mouth.  Thy  gentle,  small  hands.  Thy  hair.  All 
of  thee!" 

"O,"  she  murmured  a  little  breathlessly,  "if  thou 
dost  so  love  me  —  woo  me  —  a  little  ! " 

"Alas  !"   he  sighed,  "I  know  not  how." 

"Hast  ne'er  wooed  maid  ere  this,  big  soldier?" 

"Never!" 

"Thou  poor  Pertinax  !  How  empty  —  how  drear 
thy  life.  For  this  do  I  pity  thee  with  pity  kin  to 
love " 

"Love?"  he  whispered.  "Ah,  Melissa,  couldst 
e'en  learn  to  love  one  so  unlovely,  so  rude,  so  rough 
and  unmannered  as  I  ?  " 

"Never!"  she  sighed,  "O,  never  —  unless  thou 
teach  me  ?  " 

196 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Would  indeed  I  might,  Melissa.  Ah,  teach  me 
how  I  may  teach  thee  to  love  one  so  unworthy  as 
Pertinax!" 

Now  hearkening  to  his  harsh  voice  grown  soft 
and  tremulous,  beholding  the  truth  in  his  honest 
eyes,  Melissa  smiled,  wondrous  tender,  and  reaching 
out  took  hold  upon  his  two  hands. 

"Kneel!"  she  commanded.  "Kneel  here  upon 
the  grass  as  I  do  kneel.  Now,  lay  by  thy  cumbrous 
helmet.  Now  fold  thy  great,  strong  hands.  Now 
bow  thy  tall,  grim  head  and  say  in  sweet,  soft  accents 
low  and  reverent :  '  Melissa,  I  do  love  thee  heart 
and  soul,  thee  only  do  I  love  and  thee  only  will  I 
love  now  and  for  ever.  So  aid  me,  Love,  amen  ! ' : 
Then,  closing  his  eyes,  Sir  Pertinax  bowed  reverent 
head,  and,  humbly  folding  his  hands,  spake  as  she 
bade  him.  Thereafter  opening  his  eyes,  he  saw  her 
watching  him  through  gathering  tears,  and  leaning 
near,  he  reached  out  eager  arms,  yet  touched  her 
not.  Quoth  he:  "O  maid  beloved,  what  is  thy 
sorrow?" 

"  'T  is  joy  —  joy,  and  thou  —  thou  art  so  strong 
and  fierce  yet  so  gentle  and  simple  of  heart !  O, 
may  I  prove  worthy  thy  love " 

"Worthy?  Of  my  love?"  he  stammered.  "But 
O  Melissa,  I  am  but  he  thou  didst  name  harsh  of 
tongue."  / 

"Aye,  I  did!"  she  sobbed. 

"Hard  of  heart,  flinty  of  soul,  rude,  unmannered 
and  unlovely." 

"Aye  —  I  did  and  —  loved  thee  the  while  !"  she 
whispered.     "So  now  do  I  pray  that  I  prove  worthy." 

"Worthy?  Thou?  O  my  sweet  maid — thou 
that  art  kin  to  the  holy  angels,  thou  so  high  and  far 
removed  'bove  me  that  I  do  tremble  and  —  fear  to 
touch  thee "  j 

197 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Nay,  fear  me  not,  Pertinax,"  she  sighed,  "for 
though  indeed  I  am  all  this,  yet  maid  am  I  also  and 
by  times  —  very  human.  So  Pertinax,  thou  great, 
fearless  man-at-arms,  lay  by  thy  so  great  fears  a 
while  —  I  do  beseech  thee."  Then  Sir  Pertinax,  be- 
holding the  tender  passion  of  her  eyes,  forgot  his 
fear  in  glad  wonderment  and,  reaching  out  hands 
that  trembled  for  all  their  strength,  drew  her  to  his 
close  embracement. 

And  thus,  kneeling  together  upon  the  sun-dappled 
sward,  they  forgot  all  things  in  this  joyous  world 
save  only  their  love  and  the  glory  of  it.  And  when 
they  had  kissed  each  other 

My  daughter  gillian  remonstrateth  : 

Gill  :         But,  wait,  they  have  n't  yet,  you  know  ! 

Myself  :  Indeed,  they  have,  I  've  just  said  so. 

Gill  :         Then,  father,  please  to  tell  me  this  : 
How  can  a  person  say  a  kiss  ? 
And  so,  since  kisses  can't  be  said, 
Please  make  them  do  it  now  instead. 

Thus,  cradled  in  his  strong  arms,  she  questioned 
him  tenderly : 

"Dost  mind  how,  upon  a  day,  my  Pertinax,  didst 
ask  of  me  the  amulet  I  bore  within  my  bosom  ?" 

"Aye,"  he  answered,  "and  sure  'tis  charm  of 
potent  magic  whose  spell  brought  us  out  of  the 
dungeon  at  Canalise  —  the  which  is  great  matter  for 
wonder !  But  't  is  for  thy  dear  sake  I  do  cherish 
it " 

"Bear  you  it  yet?" 

"Here  upon  my  heart." 

"And  if  I  should  ask  it  of  thee  again  —  wouldst 
render  it  back  to  me?" 

198 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Never!"  quoth  he.  "Never,  until  with  it  I 
give  thee  myself  also  !" 

But  presently  she  stirred  in  his  embrace  for  upon 
the  air  was  an  approaching  clamour,  voices,  laughter 
and  the  ring  of  mail. 

"Come  away!"  whispered  Melissa,  upspringing 
to  her  feet.  "Come,  let  thou  and  Love  and  I  hide 
until  these  disturbers  be  gone  and  the  sweet  world 
hold  but  us  three  again." 

Now,  as  they  stood,  hand  in  hand,  deep  hidden 
'mid  the  green,  they  beheld  six  merry  woodland 
rogues  who  led  an  ambling  ass  whereon  rode  a  friar 
portly  and  perspiring  albeit  he  had  a  jovial  eye. 
And  as  he  rode  he  spake  his  captors  thus  in  voice 
full-toned  and  deep : 

"Have  a  care,  gentle  rogues  and  brethren,  hurry 
not  this  ambulant  animal  unduly,  poor,  much- 
enduring  beast.  Behold  the  pensive  pendulation 
of  these  auriculars  so  forlornly  a-dangle !  Here  is 
ass  that  doth  out-patience  all  asses,  both  four  and 
two-legged.  Here  is  meek  ass  of  leisured  soul  lov- 
ing not  haste  —  a  very  pensive  perambulator.  So 
hurry  not  the  ass,  my  brothers,  for  these  several 
and  distinct  reasons  or  arguments.  Firstly,  dearly 
beloved,  because  I  love  haste  no  more  than  the 
ass ;  secondly,  brethren,  't  is  property  of  Holy 
Church  which  is  above  all  argument ;  and,  thirdly, 
't  is  bestridden  by  one  Friar  John,  my  very  self,  and  I 
am  forsooth  weighty  argument.  Fourthly,  beloved, 
't  is  an  ass  that  —  ha !  O  sweet  vision  for  eyes 
human  or  divine!  Do  I  see  thee  in  very  truth, 
thou  damsel  of  disobedience,  dear  dame  of  discord, 
sweet,  witching,  wilful  lady  —  is  it  thou  in  very 
truth,  most  loved  daughter,  or  wraith  conjured  of 
thy  magic  and  my  perfervid  imaginations  —  speak  !" 

"Tis    I    myself,    Reverend    Father!"    laughed 

199 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Melissa.  "0  my  dear,  good  Friar  John,  methinks 
the  kind  Saints  have  brought  thee  to  my  need." 

"Saints,  quotha!"  exclaimed  the  Friar,  rolling 
merry  eye  towards  his  several  captors.  "Call  ye 
these  —  Saints  ?  Long  have  I  sought  thee,  thou 
naughty  maid,  and  to-day  in  my  quest  these  brawny 
'saints'  beset  me  with  bow  and  quarterstaff  and  me 
constrained  hither  —  but  my  blessing  on  them  since 
they  have  brought  me  to  thee.  And  now,  sweet 
child  and  daughter,  whiles  the  news  yet  runneth 
hot-foot  or,  like  bird  unseen,  wingeth  from  lip  to 
lip,  I  thy  ghostly  father  have  rare  good  news  for 
thee " 

"Nay,  Friar  John,  I  will  guess  thy  tidings:  Sir 
Agramore  of  Biename  lieth  sorry  and  sore  of  a 
cudgelling." 

"How!"  cried  the  Friar.  "Thou  dost  know  — 
so  soon?" 

"Verily,  Reverend  Father,  nor  have  I  or  my 
worthy  guardians  aught  to  fear  of  him  hereafter. 
And  now  have  I  right  wondrous  news  for  thee,  news 
that  none  may  guess.  List,  dear  Friar  John,  thou 
the  wisest  and  best  loved  of  all  my  guardians  ten; 
to-day  ye  are  absolved  henceforth  all  care  of  your 
wilful  ward  since  to-day  she  passeth  from  the 
guardianship  of  ye  ten  to  the  keeping  of  one.  Come 
forth,  Pertinax,  thou  only  one  beloved  of  me  for 
no  reason  but  that  thou  art  thou  and  I  am  I  —  as 
is  ever  the  sweet,  mad  way  of  True-love  —  come 
forth,  my  dear-loved,  poor  soldier  ! "  Out  from  the 
trees  strode  Pertinax  but,  beholding  his  face,  Friar 
John  scowled  and,  viewing  his  rich  surcoat  and 
goodly  armour,  fell  to  perspiring  wonder  and  amaze. 

"Now  by  the  sweet  Saint  Amphibalus!"  quoth 
he.  "Surely  these  be  the  arms  of  Sir  Agramore, 
dread  Lord  of  Biename?" 

200 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Most  true,  dear  Friar  John,"  answered  Melissa, 
"and  by  this  same  token  Sir  Agramore  lieth  sore 
bruised  e'en  now." 

"Aha!"  quoth  the  Friar,  mopping  moist  brow. 
"  'T  is  well  —  't  is  very  well,  so  shall  these  two  ears 
of  mine,  with  eighteen  others  of  lesser  account, 
scathless  go  and  all  by  reason  of  this  good,  tall 
fellow.  Howbeit,  I  do  know  this  same  fellow  for 
fellow  of  none  account,  and  no  fit  mate  for  thee, 
noble  daughter,  love  or  no.  A  fierce,  brawling, 
tatterdemalion  this,  that  erstwhile  tramped  in 
company  with  long-legged  ribald  —  a  fro  ward  jest- 
ing fellow.  Wherefore  this  fellow,  though  fellow 
serviceable,  no  fellow  is  for  thee  and  for  these 
sufficing  reasons.     Firstly " 

"Ha  —  enough!"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  chin  out- 
thrust.     "'Fellow'  me  no  more,  Friar " 

"Firstly,"  continued  Friar  John,  "because  this 
out-at-elbows  fellow  is  a  rogue." 

"'Rogue,'  in  thy  teeth,  Churchman!"  growled 
Sir  Pertinax. 

"Secondly,"  continued  Friar  John,  nothing 
abashed,  "because  this  rogue-fellow  is  a  runagate 
roysterer,  a  nameless  knave,  a  highway-haunter,  a 
filching  flick-o'-the-gibbet  and  a " 

"Friar,"  snorted  Sir  Pertinax,  "thou  'rt  but  a  very 
fat  man  scant  o'  breath,  moreover  thou  'rt  a  friar, 
so  needs  must  I  leave  thee  alive  to  make  pestilent 
the  air  yet  a  little  until  thou  chokest  of  an  epithet. 
Meantime  perform  now  one  gracious  act  in  thy  so 
graceless  life  and  wed  me  with  this  forest  maiden." 

"Forest  maiden,  forsooth!"  cried  Friar  John. 
"O  Saints!  O  Martyrs!  Forest  maid,  quotha! 
And  wed  her  —  and  unto  thee,  presumptuous  mala- 
pert !  Ho,  begone,  thy  base  blood  and  nameless 
rank  forbid " 

20 1 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Hold  there,  shaveling!"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax, 
scowling.  "Now  mark  me  this!  Though  I,  being 
very  man,  do  know  myself  all  unworthy  maid  so 
sweet  and  peerless,  yet,  and  she  stoop  to  wed  me, 
then  will  I  make  her  lady  proud  and  dame  of  divers 
goodly  manors  and  castles,  of  village  and  hamlet, 
pit  and  gallows,  sac  and  soc,  with  powers  the  high, 
the  middle  and  the  low  and  with  ten-score  lances 
in  her  train.  For  though  in  humble  guise  I  went, 
no  nameless  rogue  am  I,  but  Knight  of  Shene,  Lord 
of  Westover,  Framling,  Bracton  and  Deepdene 


How!"  cried  Melissa,  pouting  rosy  lip  and 
frowning  a  little.  "O  Pertinax,  art  indeed  a  great 
lord?" 

"Why,  sooth  —  forsooth  and  indeed,"  he  stam- 
mered, "I  do  fear  I  am." 

"Then  thou  'rt  no  poor,  distressful,  ragged,  out- 
law-soldier?" 

"Alack  —  no!"  he  groaned,  regardful  of  her 
frown. 

"Then  basely  hast  thou  tricked  me  —  O  cruel !" 

"Nay,  Melissa  —  hear  me!"  he  cried,  and,  for- 
getful of  friar  and  gaping  outlaws,  he  clasped  her 
fast  'prisoned  'gainst  his  heart.  "Thee  do  I  love, 
dear  maid,  'bove  rank,  or  fame,  or  riches,  or  aught 
this  world  may  offer.  So,  an  thou  wouldst  have 
me  ragged  and  destitute  and  outlaw,  all  this  will 
I  be  for  thy  sweet  sake  since  life  were  nought  with- 
out thee,  O  maid  I  do  so  love  —  how  say'st  thou?" 

"I  say  to  thee,  Pertinax,  that  thy  so  great  love 
hath  loosed  thy  tongue  at  last,  Love  hath  touched 
thy  lips  with  eloquence  beyond  all  artifice  since 
now,  methinks,  it  is  thy  very  soul  doth  speak  me. 
And  who  shall  resist  such  wooing?  Surely  not  I 
that  do  —  love  thee  beyond  telling.  So  take  me, 
my  lord,  thy  right  hand  in  mine,  the  talisman  in 

202 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

thy  left  —  so  !  Now,  my  Pertinax,  speak  thy  heart's 
wish." 

"Friar,"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax,  holding  aloft  the 
Crystal  Heart,  "as  her  love  is  mine  and  mine  hers, 
wed  and  unite  us  in  our  love  —  by  the  magic  of 
this  jewel  I  do  command  thee  !" 

Here,  beholding  the  talisman,  Friar  John  gasped 
and  stared  round-eyed  and  incredulous. 

"By  Holy  Rood!"  he  whispered,  *"t  is  indeed 
the  Crystal  Heart!" 

"And  O!"  sighed  Melissa,  "O  Friar  John,  thou 
dost  mind  the  saying : 

"'He  that  taketh  Crystal  Heart, 
Taketh  all  and  every  part ! ' " 

"Aye,  truly  —  truly  !"  nodded  the  Friar. 

"'And  by  night,  or  eke  by  day, 
The  Crystal  Heart  all  must  obey  !'" 

So  saying  he  got  him  down  from  the  ass  and,  for  all 
his  corpulence,  louted  full  low. 

"Sir  Knight  of  Shene,"  quoth  he,  "by  reason  of 
this  jewel  potential  thou  dost  bear,  now  must  I 
perforce  obey  thy  behest  and  wed  thee  unto  this 
our  gracious  lady  Benedicta,  Duchess  of  Ambre- 
mont,  Canalise,  Tissingors,  Fordyngstoke  and  divers 
other  towns,  villages  and " 

"Duchess  —  a  duchess ?"  exclaimed  Sir  Pertinax. 
"Duchess  say'st  thou  —  this,  the  Duchess  Bene- 
dicta !     O  Melissa  —  thou  —  thou  —  a  duchess  !"^ 

"Sooth  and  forsooth,"  sighed  she  in  pretty 
mockery,  "I  do  fear  I  am!" 

"Then  thou  'rt  no  humble  maid,  distressful  and 
forlorn,  Melissa?" 

203 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Yea,  Pertinax  —  all  this  am  I  indeed  unless 
thou  love  me,  and  loving  me,  wed  me,  and  wedding 
me  love  me  the  better  therefor,  and  loving  me  ever 
the  better,  thou  may'st  learn  a  little  some  day  how 
a  woman  may  love  a  man." 

"Par  Dex!"  mumbled  Sir  Pertinax,  kissing  her 
rosy  finger-tips,  "be  thou  duchess  or  witch-maid  o' 
the  wood,  I  do  love  thee  heart  and  soul,  body  and 
mind,  now  and  for  ever,  Melissa." 

Then  Friar  John,  beholding  the  radiant  joy  of  their 
faces,  reached  forth  his  hands  in  blessing. 

"Kneel  ye,  my  children  !"  he  sighed.  "For  here 
methinks  is  true-love  such  as  brighteneth  this  world 
all  too  seldom.  So  here,  within  the  forest,  the  which 
is  surely  God's  cathedral,  this  your  love  shall  be 
sanctified  unto  you  and  the  world  be  the  better 
therefor  !     Kneel  ye,  my  children  ! " 

And  thus,  kneeling  upon  the  flower-sprent  turf 
hand  in  hand  and  with  heads  reverently  bowed, 
they  were  wed,  while  the  six  outlaws  stared  in  silent 
awe  and  the  meek  ass  cropped  the  grass  busily. 

"O  Pertinax,"  sighed  the  Duchess  as  they  rose, 
"so  greatly  happy  am  I  that  I  will  others  shall  be 
happy  likewise ;  let  us  make  this  indeed  a  day  of 
gladness.  I  pray  thee  sound  the  bugle  that  hangeth 
within  the  great  oak,  yonder." 

So  Sir  Pertinax  took  the  horn  and  sounded  thereon 
a  mighty  blast,  loud  and  long  and  joyous.  And 
presently  came  the  outlaws,  thronging  in  from  all 
directions,  until  the  sunny  glade  was  full  of  their 
wild  company,  while  in  the  green  beyond  pike- 
head  twinkled  and  sword-blades  glittered ;  and  fore- 
most was  Robin  with  Lobkyn  Lollo  beside  him. 

"Robin,"  said  the  Duchess,  beckoning  him  near 
with  white,  imperious  finger,  "Robin  a'  Green, 
thou  whose  tongue  is  quick  and  ready  as  thy  hand, 

204 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

hast  ever  been  gentle  to  the  weak  and  helpless  as 
I  do  know,  in  especial  to  two  women  that  sought 
thy  protection  of  late." 

'Why,  verily,  lady,  I  mind  them  well,"  nodded 
Robin,  "and  one  was  a  maid  passing  fair  and  one 
an  ancient  dame  exceeding  wise.  To  aid  such  is 
ever  a  man's  joy  —  or  should  be." 

"Knew  ye  who  and  what  this  maid  was,  Robin?" 

"Aye,  lady,  I  knew  her  then  as  now  for  that  proud 
and  noble  lady  the  Duchess  Benedicta." 

"And  yet,  Robin,  knowing  this  and  having  me  in 
thy  power  didst  suffer  me  to  go  without  let  or  hin- 
drance or  single  penny  of  ransom  ?  " 

"My  lady  Duchess,"  answered  Robin,  glancing 
round  upon  his  wild  company,  "we  be  outlaws,  'tis 
true,  and  rogues  —  mayhap,  yet  are  we  men  and 
thou  a  lady  passing  fair,  wherefore  —  though  I 
knew  thee  for  the  Duchess  Benedicta,  thou  wert 
safe  with  us  since  we  war  not  with  women  and  harm 
no  maids  be  they  of  high  or  low  degree  !" 

"Spoke  like  a  very  knight!"  exclaimed  the 
Duchess.     "How  think'st  thou,  my  lord?" 

"Par  Dex!"  quoth  Sir  Pertinax.  "Aye,  by  Our 
Lady  of  Shene  Chapel  within  the  Wood  I  swear  it  — 
thou  'rt  a  man,  Robin  !  So  now  do  I  sue  pardon  of 
thee  for  my  song  o'  rogues  since  no  rogue  art  thou. 
And  thou  didst  aid  and  shield  her  —  this  my  wife 
that  is  the  very  eyes  of  me !  So,  by  my  troth,  my 
good  friend  art  thou  henceforth,  Rob  o'  the  Green  !" 

"Nay,  my  lord,"  answered  Robin  slyly,  "for  I 
am  but  Robin,  and  outlaw,  and  thou  art  the  Duke  !" 

"Forsooth  —  and  so  I  am!"  exclaimed  Sir  Per- 
tinax. "Ha  —  yet  am  I  still  a  man,  and  there- 
fore  " 

"Wait,  my  lord!"  said  Benedicta.  "Robin, 
give  me  thy  sword !"     So  she  took  the  weapon  and 

205 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

motioning  Robin  to  his  knees,  set  the  blade  across 
his  shoulder.  "Robin  a'  Green,"  said  she,  "since 
thou  art  knightly  of  word  and  deed,  knight  shalt 
thou  be  in  very  truth.  Sir  Robin  a'  Forest  I  make 
thee  and  warden  over  this  our  forest  country.  Rise 
up,  Sir  Robert."  Then  up  sprang  Robin,  bright- 
eyed  and  flushed  of  cheek. 

"Dear  my  lady,"  cried  he,  "since  knight  hast 
made  me,  thy  knight  will  I  be  henceforth  in  life  or 

in  death  "     But  here  his  voice  was  lost  in  the 

joyous  acclamations  of  his  followers  who  shouted 
amain  until  the  Duchess  quelled  them  with  lifted 
hand. 

"Ye  men  of  the  wild-wood,"  said  she,  looking 
round  upon  them  gentle-eyed,  "all  ye  that  be  home- 
less and  desolate,  lying  without  the  law,  this  day 
joy  hath  found  me,  for  this  is  my  wedding-morn. 
And  as  I  am  happy  I  would  see  ye  happy  also. 
Therefore  upon  this  glad  day  do  we  make  proclama- 
tion, my  Lord  Duke  and  I  —  this  day  we  lift  from 
you  each  and  every,  the  ban  of  outlawry  —  free 
men  are  ye  to  go  and  come  as  ye  list  —  free  men  one 
and  all  and  good  citizens  henceforth  I  pray !"  Now 
here  was  silence  awhile,  then  a  hoarse  murmur,  swell- 
ing to  a  jubilant  shout  until  the  sunny  woodland 
rang  with  the  joy  of  it,  near  and  far. 

"And  now,  Sir  Robert,"  laughed  the  Duchess, 
"pray  you  where  is  this  noble  Fool,  this  gentle 
Motley,  this  most  rare  singer  of  songs  and  breaker 
of  lances  ?     Bid  him  to  us." 

"Ha  —  the  Fool !"  exclaimed  Sir  Pertinax,  start- 
ing. 

"My  lady,"  answered  Robin,  "true,  he  was  here, 
but  when  I  sought  him,  a  while  since,  there  was  Sir 
Palamon's     armour    he    had     worn,     but    himself 

gone " 

206 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Gone  —  gone  say'st  thou?"  cried  Sir  Pertinax, 
glancing  about.  "Then  needs  must  I  go  seek 
him " 

"And  wherefore,  my  lord?"   cried  the  Duchess. 

"'Tis  my  —  my  duty,  Melissa!"  stammered  Sir 
Pertinax.  "He  is  my  —  my  friend  and  —  sworn 
brother-in-arms !" 

"And  am  I  not  thy  wife,  Pertinax?" 

"Aye,  most  dearly  loved,  and  I,  thy  husband  — 
and  yet  —  needs  must  I  seek  this  Fool,  Melissa." 

"O  Pertinax  —  wilt  leave  me?" 

"Leave  thee?"  groaned  Sir  Pertinax.  "Aye  — 
for  a  while  !  Leave  thee  ?  Aye  —  though  it  break 
my  heart  needs  must  I !  He,  my  —  brother-in- 
arms.    My  duty  calleth " 

"And  what  of  thy  duty  to  me?" 

Now  as  Sir  Pertinax  wrung  his  hands  in  an  agony 
of  indecision,  rose  a  whisper  of  sweet  sound,  the 
murmur  of  softly -plucked  lute-strings,  and  into  the 
glade,  cock's-comb  aflaunt  and  ass's  ears  a-dangle 
Duke  Jocelyn  strode  and  sang  as  he  came  a  song  he 
had  made  on  a  time,  a  familiar  air : 

"Good  Pertinax,  why  griev'st  thou  so? 
Free  of  all  duty  thou  dost  go, 
Save  that  which  thou  to  Love  dost  owe, 
My  noble  Pertinax." 

"And  love  from  heaven  hath  stooped  thus  low 
To  me!"  quoth  Pertinax. 

But  here  came  Robin  with  certain  of  his  men 
leading  a  snow-white  palfrey  richly  caparisoned. 

"Right  noble  lady,"  said  he,  "behold  here  a 
goodly,  fair  jennet  to  thy  gracious  acceptance." 

"Arid    indeed  —  'tis    rare,    pretty    beast!"    ex- 

207 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

claimed  Benedicta.  "But  Robin,  Robin,  0  Sir 
Robert,  whence  had  you  this?" 

"Lady,  upon  a  time  I  was  an  outlaw  and  lived 
as  outlaws  may,  taking  such  things  as  Fate  bestowed, 
and,  lady : 

"  Fate  is  a  wind 
To  outlaws  kind : 

But  now  since  we  be  free-men  all,  I  and  my  fellows, 
fain  would  we  march  hence  in  thy  train  to  thy 
honour  and  our  joyance.  Wilt  grant  us  this  boon, 
lady?" 

"Freely,  for  'tis  rare  good  thought,  Robin! 
Surely  never  rode  duke  and  duchess  so  attended. 
How  the  townsfolk  shall  throng  and  stare  to  see  our 
wild  following,  and  my  worthy  guardians  gape  and 
pluck  their  beards  for  very  amaze  !  How  think  you, 
good  Friar  John  ?  " 

"Why,  verily,  daughter,  I,  that  am  chief  est  of 
thy  wardens  ten,  do  think  it  wise  measure;  as  for 
thy  other  guardians  let  them  pluck  and  gape  until 
they  choke. 

"In  especial  Greg'ry  Bax, 
Who  both  beard  and  wisdom  lacks. 

I  say  'tis  wise,  good  measure,  for  these  that  were 
outlaws  be  sturdy  fellows  with  many  friends  in  town 
and  village,  so  shall  this  thy  day  of  union  be  for 
them  re-union,  and  they  joy  with  thee." 

Now  being  mounted  the  Duchess  rode  where  stood 
Jocelyn,  and  looked  down  on  him  merry-eyed. 

"Sir  Fool,"  said  she,  "who  thou  art  I  know  not, 
but  I  have  hunted  in  Brocelaunde  ere  now,  and  I 
have  eyes.     And  as  thou  'rt  friend  to  my  dear  lord, 

208 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

friend  art  thou  of  mine,  so  do  we  give  thee  joyous 
welcome  to  our  duchy.  And,  being  thy  friend,  I 
pray  thou  may'st  find  that  wonder  of  wonders  the 
which  hideth  but  to  be  found,  and  once  found,  shall 
make  wise  Fool  wiser." 

"Sweet  friend  and  lady,"  answered  Jocelyn, 
"surely  man  so  unlovely  as  I  may  not  know  this 
wonder  for  his  very  own  until  it  first  seek  him.  Is  't 
not  so?     Let  now  thy  woman's  heart  counsel  me." 

"How,  Sir  Wise  Folly,  have  I  not  heard  thee 
preach  boldness  in  love  ere  now?" 

"Aye  —  for  others!"  sighed  Jocelyn.  "But  for 
myself  —  I  fear  —  behold  this  motley  !  This  scarred 
face ! " 

"Why  as  to  thy  motley  it  becometh  thee  well " 

"Aye,  but  my  face  ?     O,  't  is  a  hideous  face  !" 

"O  Fool!"  sighed  Benedicta,  "know'st  thou  not 
that  True-love's  eyes  possess  a  magic  whereby  all 
loved  things  become  fair  and  beauteous.  So  take 
courage,  noble  Motley,  and  may  thy  desires  be 
crowned  —  even  as  our  own." 

"Gramercy,  thou  sweet  and  gentle  lady.  Happi- 
ness companion  thee  alway  and  Love  sing  ever 
within  thee.  Now  for  ye  twain  is  love's  springtime, 
a  season  of  sweet  promise,  may  each  promise  find 
fulfilment  and  so  farewell." 

"Why  then,  Sir  Fool,  an  thou  wilt  tarry  here  in 
the  good  greenwood  a  while,  may  Love  guide  thee. 
Now  here  is  my  counsel :  Follow  where  thy  heart 
commandeth  and  —  fear  not !  And  now,  Sir  Robert 
a'  Forest,  form  thy  company,  and  since  this  is  a 
day  of  gladness  let  them  sing  as  they  march." 

"In  sooth,  dear  my  lady,  that  will  we!"  cried 
Robin.  "There  is  song  o'  spring  and  gladness  I 
made  that  hath  oft  been  our  solace,  and  moreover 
it  beginneth  and  endeth  with  jolly  chorus  well  be- 

209 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

known  to  all.  Ho,  pikes  to  van  and  rear !  Bows 
to  the  flanks  —  fall  in  !  Now  trusty  friends  o'  the 
greenwood,  free-men  all,  henceforth  —  now  march 
we  back  to  hearth  and  home  and  love,  so  sing  ye  — 
sing!" 

Hereupon  from  the  ragged,  close-ordered  ranks 
burst  a  shout  that  swelled  to  rolling  chorus ;  and 
these  the  words : 

The  Men  :  Sing    high,  sing    low,    sing    merrily  — 
hey! 
And  cheerily  let  us  sing, 
While  youth  is  youth  then  youth  is  gay 
And  youth  shall  have  his  fling. 

Robin  :         The  merry  merle  on  leafy  spray, 
The  lark  on  fluttering  wing 
Do  pipe  a  joyous  roundelay, 
To  greet  the  blithesome  spring. 

Hence,  hence  cold  Age,  black  Care  — 

away ! 
Cold  Age  black  Care  doth  bring ; 
When  back  is  bowed  and  head  is  grey, 
Black  Care  doth  clasp  and  cling. 

Black  Care  doth  rosy  Pleasure  stay, 
Age  ageth  everything ; 
'T  is  farewell  sport  and  holiday, 
On  flowery  mead  and  ling. 

If  Death  must  come,  then  come  he  may, 
And  wed  with  death-cold  ring, 
Yet  ere  our  youth  and  strength  decay, 
Blithe  Joy  shall  be  our  king. 

2IO 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

The  Men  :  Sing  high,  sing  low,  sing  merrily  —  hey  ! 
And  cheerily  we  will  sing. 

So  they  marched  blithely  away,  a  right  joyous 
company,  flashing  back  the  sunset  glory  from  bright 
headpiece  and  sword-blade,  while  Jocelyn  stood 
watching  wistful-eyed  until  they  were  lost  amid  the 
green,  until  all  sounds  of  their  going  grew  to  a  hush 
mingling  with  the  whisper  of  leaves  and  murmurous 
gurgle  of  the  brook ;  and  ever  the  shadows  deepened 
about  him,  a  purple  solitude  of  misty  trees  and 
tangled  thickets,  depth  on  depth,  fading  to  a  glim- 
mering mystery. 

Suddenly  amid  these  glooming  shadows  a  shadow 
moved,  and  forth  into  the  darkling  glade,  mighty 
club  on  mighty  shoulder,  stepped  Lobkyn  Lollo 
the  Dwarf,  and  his  eyes  were  pensive  and  he  sighed 
gustily. 

"Alack!"  quoth  he: 

"So  here  's  an  end  of  outlawry, 
And  all  along  o'  lady, 
Yet  still  an  outlaw  I  will  be 
Shut  in  o'  shaws  so  shady. 
And  yet  it  is  great  shame,  I  trow, 
That  our  good  friends  should  freemen  go 
And  leave  us  lonely  to  our  woe, 
And  all  along  o'  lady. 

"And  plague  upon  this  love,  I  say, 
For  stealing  thus  thy  friend  away, 
And  since  fast  caught  and  wed  is  he 
Thy  friend  henceforth  is  lost  to  thee, 
And  thou,  poor  Fool,  dost  mope  and  sigh, 
And  so  a  plague  on  love  !  say  I." 

"Nay,  good  Lobkyn,  what  know  you  of  love?" 

211 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Answered  Lobkyn  : 

"Marry,  enough  o'  love  know  I 
To  steal  away  if  love  be  nigh. 

"For  love  's  an  ill  as  light  as  air, 
Yet  heavy  as  a  stone ; 
O,  love  is  joy  and  love  is  care, 
A  song  and  eke  a  groan. 

"Love  is  a  sickness,  I  surmise, 
Taketh  a  man  first  by  the  eyes, 
And  stealing  thence  into  his  heart, 
There  gripeth  him  with  bitter  smart. 
Alas,  poor  soul, 
What  bitter  dole, 
Doth  plague  his  every  part ! 

"From  heart  to  liver  next  it  goes, 
And  fills  him  full  o'  windv  woes, 
And,  being  full  o'  gusty  pain, 
He  groaneth  oft,  and  sighs  amain, 
Poor  soul  is  he 
In  verity, 
And  for  his  freedom  sighs  in  vain." 

"Miscall  not  love,  Lobkyn,  for  sure  True-love  is 
every  man's  birthright." 

Quoth  Lobkyn  : 

"Why  then,  methinks  there  's  many  a  wight 
That  cheated  is  of  his  birthright, 
As,  item  first,  here  's  Lobkyn  Lollo 
To  prove  thine  argument  quite  hollow. 
Dare  I  at  maid  to  cast  mine  eye, 
She  mocketh  me,  and  off  doth  fly, 

212 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

And  all  because  I  'm  humped  o'  back, 

And  something  to  my  stature  lack. 

Thus,  though  I  'm  stronger  man  than  three, 

No  maid  may  love  the  likes  o'  me. 

Next,  there  's  thyself  —  a  Fool,  I  swear, 

At  fight  or  song  beyond  compare. 

But  —  thou  'rt  unlovely  o'  thy  look, 

And  this  no  maid  will  ever  brook. 

So  thou  and  I,  for  weal  or  woe, 

To  our  lives'  end  unloved  must  go. 

But  think  ye  that  I  grieve  or  sigh  ? 

Not  so  !     A  plague  on  love,  say  I !" 

Now  here  Jocelyn  sighed  amain  and,  sitting  be- 
neath a  tree,  fell  to  sad  and  wistful  thinking. 

"Aye,  verily,"  he  repeated,  "I  am  'unlovely  of  my 
look.'" 

Quoth  Lobkyn  heartily : 


a 


In  very  sooth, 

Fool,  that's  the  truth!" 


"Alas!"     sighed   Jocelyn,    "'And   this   no   maid 
will  ever  brook !'" 

Answered  Lobkyn  : 

"And  there  dost  speak,  wise  Fool,  again, 
A  truth  right  manifest  and  plain, 
Since  fairest  maids  have  bat-like  eyes, 
And  see  no  more  than  outward  lies. 
And  seeing  thus,  they  nothing  see 
Of  worthiness  in  you  or  me. 
And  so,  since  love  doth  pass  us  by, 
The  plague  o'  plagues  on  love,  say  I !" 

213 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Nath'less,"  cried  the  Duke,  leaping  to  his  feet. 
"I  will  put  Love  to  the  test  —  aye,  this  very  hour  !" 

Lobkyn  :    Wilt  go,  good  Motley  ?     Pray  thee  where  ? 

Jocelyn  :  To  one  beyond  all  ladies  fair. 

Lobkyn  :    Then  dost  thou  need  a  friend  about  thee 
To  cheer  and  comfort  when  she  flout  thee. 
So,  an  thou  wilt  a-wooing  wend, 
I  '11  follow  thee  like  trusty  friend. 
In  love  or  fight  thou  shalt  not  lack 
A  sturdy  arm  to  'fend  thy  back. 
I  '11  follow  thee  in  light  or  dark, 
Through  good  or  ill  —  Saints  shield  us ! 
Hark! 

And  Lobkyn  started  about,  club  poised  for  swift 
action,  for,  out-stealing  from  the  shadows  crept 
strange  and  dismal  sound,  a  thin  wail  that  sank  to 
awful  groaning  rumble,  and  so  died  away. 

"01"  whispered  Lobkyn : 

"Pray,  Fool,  pray  with  all  thy  might, 
Here  's  goblin  foul  or  woodland  sprite 
Come  for  to  steal  our  souls  away, 
So  on  thy  knees  quick,  Fool,  and  pray  ! " 

But,  as  these  dismal  sounds  brake  forth  again, 
Jocelyn  stole  forward,  quarter-staff  gripped  in  ready 
hand ;  thus,  coming  nigh  the  great  oak,  he  espied 
a  dim,  huddled  form  thereby  and,  creeping  nearer, 
stared  in  wonder  to  behold  Mopsa,  the  old  witch, 
striving  might  and  main  to  wind  the  great  hunting- 
horn. 

"What,  good  Witch!"  quoth  he,  "here  methinks 
is  that  beyond  all  thy  spells  to  achieve." 

"O  Fool,"  she  panted,  "kind  Fool,  sound  me  this 

214 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

horn,  for  I  'm  old  and  scant  o'  breath.  Wind  it 
shrill  and  loud,  good  Motley,  the  rallying-note,  for 
there  is  ill  work  afoot  this  night.  Sound  me  shrewd 
blast,  therefore." 

"Nay,  't  were  labour  in  vain,  Witch;  there  be  no 
outlaws  hereabout,  free  men  are  they  henceforth 
and  gone,  each  and  every." 

"Out  alas  —  alas!"  cried  the  old  woman,  wring- 
ing her  hands.  "Then  woe  is  me  for  the  fair  lady 
Yolande." 

"Ha!  What  of  her,  good  Witch?  Threateneth 
danger  ?     Speak  ! " 

"Aye,  Fool,  danger  most  dire!  My  Lord  Gui 
yet  liveth,  and  this  night  divers  of  his  men  shall  bear 
her  away  where  he  lieth  raging  for  her  in  his  black 
castle  of  Ells " 

"Now  by  heaven's  light!"  swore  Jocelyn,  his 
eyes  fierce  and  keen,  "this  night  shall  Fool  be 
crowned  of  Love  or  sleep  with  kindly  Death." 

"Stay,  Fool,  thy  foes  be  a  many  !  Wilt  cope  with 
them  alone?" 

"Nay  !"  cried  a  voice  : 

"Not  so,  grandam 
For  here  I  am  !" 

and  Lobkyn  stepped  forward. 

"Aha,  my  pretty  poppet !  Loved  duck,  my 
downy  chick  —  what  wouldst?" 

"Fight,  grandam, 
Smite,  grandam, 
Sweet,  blood-begetting  blows. 
Where  Fool  goeth 
Well  Fool  knoweth 
Lobkyn  likewise  goes." 

215 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Why,  then,  my  bantling  —  loved  babe,  fight 
thy  fiercest,  for  these  be  wicked  men  and  't  will  be 
an  evil  fray.  And  she  is  sweet  and  good,  so,  Lobkyn, 
be  thy  strongest " 

Saith  Lobkyn  : 

"Aye  that  will  I, 
Or  may  I  die. 
By  this  good  kiss 
I  vow  thee  this. 

"And  here  is  signal,  Fool,  shall  shew 
Each  where  the  other  chance  to  go. 

"  Croak  like  a  frog, 
Bark  like  a  dog, 
Grunt  like  a  hog, 
I  '11  know  thee. 

"Hoot  like  an  owl, 
Like  grey  wolf  howl, 
Or  like  bear  growl, 
'T  will  shew  thee " 


"Then  come,  trusty  Lob,  and  my  thanks  to  thee !" 
cried  Jocelyn,  catching  up  his  quarter-staff.  "But 
haste  ye,  for  I  would  be  hence  ere  the  moon  get  high. 
Come!" 

So  Duke  Jocelyn  strode  away  with  Lobkyn  Lollo 
at  his  heels ;  now  as  they  went,  the  moon  began  to 
rise. 


216 


FYTTE   12 

Which  being  the  last  Fytte  of  our  Geste 
I  hope  may  please  my  daughter  best. 


"O,  Wind  of  Night,  soft-creeping, 
Sweet  charge  I  give  to  thee, 
Steal  where  my  love  lies  sleeping 
And  bear  her  dreams  of  me ; 
And  in  her  dream, 
Love,  let  me  seem 
All  she  would  have  me  be. 

"Kind  sleep  !     By  thee  we  may  attain 
To  joys  long  hoped  and  sought  in  vain, 
By  thee  we  all  may  find  again 
Our  lost  divinity. 

"So,  Night- wind,  softly  creeping, 
This  charge  I  give  to  thee, 
Go  where  my  love  lies  sleeping 
And  bear  her  dreams  of  me." 

Hearkening  to  this  singing  Yolande  shivered, 
yet  not  with  cold,  and  casting  a  cloak  about  her 
loveliness  came  and  leaned  forth  into  the  warm, 
still  glamour  of  the  night,  and  saw  where  stood 
Jocelyn  tall  and  shapely  in  the  moonlight,  but  with 
hateful  cock's-comb  a-flaunt  and  ass's  ears  gro- 
tesquely a-dangle ;  wherefore  she  sighed  and  frowned 
upon  him,  saying  nothing. 

217 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Yolande?"  he  questioned.  "O  my  lady,  and 
wilt  frown  upon  my  singing  ?  " 

Answered  she,  leaning  dimpled  chin  upon  white 
fist  and  frowning  yet : 

"Nay,  not  —  not  thy  —  singing." 

"Is 't  then  this  cap  o'  Folly  —  my  ass's  ears, 
Yolande  ?  Then  away  with  them  !  So  shalt  jester 
become  very  man  as  thou  art  very  maid!"  Forth- 
with he  thrust  back  his  cock's-comb  and  so  stood 
gazing  up  at  her  wide-eyed. 

But  she,  beholding  thus  his  scarred  face,  shivered 
again,  shrinking  a  little,  whereupon  Jocelyn  bowed 
his  head,  hiding  his  features  in  his  long,  black- 
curling  hair. 

"Alas,  my  lady!"  he  said,  "doth  my  ill  face 
offend  thee  ?  This  would  I  put  off  also  for  thy  sake 
an  it  might  be,  but  since  this  I  may  not  do,  close 
thou  thine  eyes  a  while  and  hear  me  speak.  For 
now  do  I  tell  thee,  Yolande,  that  I  —  e'en  I  that  am 
poor  jester  —  am  yet  a  man  loving  thee  with  man's 
love.  I  that  am  one  with  face  thus  hatefully  scarred 
do  seek  thee  in  thy  beauty  to  my  love " 

"Presumptuous  Fool,  how  darest  thou  speak  me 
thus?"  she  whispered. 

"For  that  great  love  dareth  greatly,  Yolande." 

"And  what  of  thy  lord?  How  of  Duke  Jocelyn, 
thy  master  ?  " 

"  He  is  but  man,  lady,  even  as  I.  Moreover  for  thee 
he  existeth  not  since  thou  hast  ne'er  beheld  him  — 
to  thy  knowing." 

"Nay,  then  —  what  of  this?"  she  questioned, 
drawing  the  jewelled  picture  from  her  bosom. 

"'Tis  but  what  it  is,  lady,  a  poor  thing  of  paint !" 

"But  sheweth  face  of  noble  beauty,  Fool !" 

"Aye,  nobly  painted,  Yolande!  A  thing  of 
daubed  colours,  seeing  naught  of  thy  beauty,  speak- 

218 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

ing  thee  no  word  of  love,  whiles  here  stand  I,  a 
sorry  Fool  of  beauty  none,  yet  therewithal  a  man  to 
woo  thee  to  my  love " 

"Thy  love ?     Ah,  wilt  so  betray  thy  lord's  trust  ?" 

"Blithely,  Yolande  !  For  thee  I  would  betray  my 
very  self." 

"And  thyself  art  Fool  faithless  to  thy  lord,  a 
rhyming  jester,  a  sorry  thing  for  scorn  or  laughter  — 
and  yet  —  thy  shameful  habit  shames  thee  not,  and 
thy  foolish  songs  hold  naught  of  idle  folly !  And 
thou  —  thou  art  the  same  I  saw  'mid  gloom  of 
dungeon  sing  brave  song  in  thy  chains !  Thou  art 
he  that  overthrew  so  many  in  the  lists  !  O  Joconde, 
my  world  is  upside  down  by  reason  of  thee." 

"And  thou,  Yolande,  didst  stoop  to  me  within  my 
dungeon  !  And  thou  didst  pray  for  me,  Yolande, 
and  now  —  now  within  this  sweet  night  thou  dost 
lean  down  to  me  through  the  glory  of  thy  hair  — 
to  me  in  my  very  lowliness  !  And  so  it  is  I  love  thee, 
Yolande,  love  thee  as  none  shall  ever  love  thee,  for 
man  am  I  with  heart  to  worship  thee,  tongue  to  woo 
thee,  eyes  to  behold  thy  beauties,  and  arms  to  clasp 
thee.  So  am  I  richer  than  yon  painted  duke  that 
needs  must  woo  thee  with  my  lips.  And  could  I 
but  win  thee  to  love  —  ah,  Yolande,  could  I,  despite 
these  foolish  trappings,  this  blemished  face,  see 
Love  look  on  me  from  thine  eyes,  O  —  then " 

"  How  —  then  —  Joconde  ?  " 

'Then  should  Fool,  by  love  exalted,  change  to 
man  indeed  and  I  —  mount  up  to  heaven  — thus  !" 
So  saying,  Jocelyn  began  to  climb  by  gnarled  ivy 
and  carven  buttress.  And  ever  as  he  mounted  she 
watched  him  through  the  silken  curtain  of  her  hair, 
wide  of  eye  and  with  hands  tight-clasped. 

"Ah,  Joconde!"  she  whispered,  "'tis  madness  — 
madness  !     Ah,  Joconde  ! "     But  swift  he  came  and 

219 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

swung  himself  upon  the  balcony  beside  her  and 
reached  out  his  arms  in  mute  supplication,  viewing 
her  wistfully  but  with  scarred  face  transfigured  by 
smile  ineffably  tender,  and  when  he  spoke  his  voice 
was  hushed  and  reverent. 

"I  am  here,  Yolande,  because  methought  to  read 
within  thy  look  the  wonder  of  all  wonders.     But, 

0  my  lady,  because  I  am  but  what  I  am,  fain  would 

1  hear  thee  speak  it  also." 

"Joconde,"  said  she  in  breathless  voice,  "wouldst 
shame  me ?" 

"Shame?"  he  cried.  "Shame?  Can  there  be 
aught  of  shame  in  true  love  ?  Or  is  it  that  my  ass's 
ears  do  shame  thee,  my  cock's-comb  and  garments 
pied  shame  the  worship  of  this  foolish  heart,  and  I, 
a  Fool,  worshipping  thee,  shame  thee  by  such  wor- 
ship ?  Then  —  on,  cock's-comb !  Ring  out,  silly 
bells  !  Fool's  love  doth  end  in  folly !  Off  love  — 
on  folly  —  a  Fool  can  but  love  and  die." 

"Stay,  Joconde;    ah,  how  may  I  tell  thee  ? 

Why  dost  thou  start  and  fumble  with  thy  dagger  ? " 

"  Heard  you  aught,  lady  ?  " 

"I  heard  an  owl  hoot  in  the  shadows  yonder,  no 


more." 


"True,  lady,  but  now  shall  this  owl  croak  like  a 
frog  —  hearken  !  Aha  —  and  now  shall  frog  bark 
like  dog " 

"And  what  meaneth  this?" 

"That  thou,  proud  lady,  must  this  night  choose 
betwixt  knightly  rogue  and  motley  Fool  —  here  be 
two  evils  with  yet  a  difference " 

"Here  is  strange,  wild  talk,  Fool !" 

"Here  shall  be  wild  doings  anon,  lady,  methinks. 
Hush  thee  and  listen  !" 

A  jangle  of  bridle-chains,  a  sound  of  voices  loud 
and  rough,  and  a  tread  of  heavy  feet  that,  breaking 

220 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

rudely  upon  the  gentle-brooding  night,  drove  the 
colour  from  Yolande's  soft  cheek  and  hushed  her 
voice  to  broken  whisper  : 

"Heaven  shield  us,  what  now,  Joconde?" 

"Wolves,  lady,  wolves  that  come  to  raven  —  see 
yonder  ! "  Even  as  he  spake  they  espied  armed  men 
who,  bold  and  assured  by  reason  of  the  solitude, 
moved  in  the  garden  below ;  and  on  back  and  breast 
of  each  was  the  sign  of  the  Bloody  Hand. 

"My  Lord  Gui's  followers!  Alas,  Joconde,  these 
mean  thee  ill  —  here  is  death  for  thee!"  Now  as 
she  spake,  Jocelyn  thrilled  to  the  touch  of  her  hand 
upon  his  arm,  a  hand  that  trembled  and  stole  to 
clasp  his.  "Alas,  Joconde,  they  have  tracked  thee 
hither  to  slay  thee " 

"And  were  this  so,  wouldst  fly  with  me,  Yolande? 
Wouldst  trust  thy  beauties  to  a  Fool's  keeping  ?  " 

"Nay,  nay,  this  were  madness,  Joconde;  rather 
will  I  hide  thee  —  aye,  where  none  shall  dare  seek 
thee  —  come!" 

"Yolande,"  he  questioned,  "Yolande,  wilt  trust 
thyself  to  Love  and  me?"  But  seeing  how  she 
shrank  away,  his  eager  arms  fell  and  he  bowed  his 
head.  "Nay,  I  am  answered,"  quoth  he,  "even 
while  thine  eyes  look  love,  thy  body  abhorreth  Fool's 
embrace  —  I  am  answered.  Nay,  't  is  enough, 
trouble  not  for  words  —  ha,  methinks  it  is  too 
late,  the  wolves  be  hard  upon  us  —  hark  ye  to  their 
baying!" 

And  now  was  sudden  uproar,  a  raving  clamour  of 
fierce  shouts,  and  a  thundering  of  blows  upon  the 
great  door  below. 

"Yolande  —  ha,  Yolande,  yield  thee!  Open! 
Open!" 

"Ah  —  mercy  of  God!  Is  it  me  they  seek?" 
she  whispered. 

221 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Thee,  Yolande !  To  bear  thee  to  their  lord's 
embraces  — — " 

"Rather  will  I  die!"  she  cried,  and  snatched  the 
dagger  from  his  girdle. 

"Not  so!"  quoth  he,  wresting  the  weapon  from 
her  grasp.  "Rather  shalt  thou  live  a  while  —  for 
thou  art  mine  —  mine  to-night,  Yolande  —  come!" 
And  he  clasped  her  in  fierce  arms.  "Nay,  strive  not 
lest  I  kiss  thee  to  submission,  for  thou  art  mine, 
though  it  be  for  one  brief  hour  and  death  the  next ! " 
So,  as  she  struggled  for  the  dagger,  he  kissed  her 
on  mouth  and  eyes  and  hair  until  she  lay  all  unre- 
sisting in  his  embrace ;  while  ever  and  anon  above 
the  thunder  of  blows  the  night  clamoured  with  the 
fierce  shout : 

"Open  —  open  !     Yolande,  ha,  Yolande  !" 

"There  is  death  —  and  worse!"  she  panted. 
"Loose  me !" 

"Stay,"  he  laughed,  "here  thou  'rt  in  thy  rightful 
place  at  last  —  upon  my  heart,  Yolande.  Now 
whither  shall  I  bear  thee  ?     Where  lieth  safety  ?" 

"Loose  me  !"  she  commanded. 

"Never!  Hark,  there  yields  the  good  door  at 
last!" 

"Then  here  will  we  die  !" 

"So  be  it,  Yolande!  A  sweet  death  thus,  heart 
to  heart  and  lip  to  lip  !" 

"O  Fool  — I  hate  thee!" 

"Howbeit,  Yolande  —  I  love  thee  !" 

"  Yolande !     Ha  —  Yolande  ! " 

The  cry  was  louder  now  and  so  near  that  she 
shivered  and,  hiding  her  face,  spake  below  her 
breath : 

"The  turret-stair  —  behind  the  arras  of  my  bed  !" 

Swiftly,  lightly  he  bore  her  down  the  winding 
stair  and  by  divers  passage-ways   until,   thrusting 

222 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

open  a  narrow  door,  he  found  himself  within  the 
garden  and,  keeping  ever  amid  the  darkest  shadows, 
hasted  on  to  the  postern  hard  by  the  lily-pool. 

And  now  Yolande  felt  herself  swung  to  lofty 
saddle,  heard  Jocelyn's  warning  shout  drowned  in 
a  roar  of  voices  and  loud-trampling  hoofs  as  the 
great  horse  reared,  heard  a  fierce  laugh  and,  looking 
up,  saw  the  face  above  her  grim  and  keen-eyed  be- 
neath its  foolish  cock's-comb  as  his  vicious  steel 
flashed  to  right  and  left,  and  ever  as  he  smote  he 
mocked  and  laughed : 

"Ha  —  well  smitten,  Lob  !  Oho,  here  Folly  rides 
with  pointed  jest  keen  and  two-edged  —  make  way, 
knaves  —  make  way  for  Folly " 

The  snorting  charger,  wheeled  by  strong  hand, 
broke  free,  whereon  rose  an  uproar  of  shouts  and 
cries  that  sank  to  a  meaningless  babble  swept  back- 
ward on  the  rush  of  wind.  Away,  away  they  sped, 
through  moonlight  and  shadow,  with  fast-beating 
hoofs  that  rang  on  paved  walk,  that  thudded  on  soft 
grass,  that  trampled  the  tender  flowers  ;  and  Yolande, 
swaying  to  the  mighty  arm  that  clasped  her,  saw 
the  fierce,  scarred  face  bent  above  her  with  eyes 
that  gleamed  under  scowling  brows  and  mouth  grim- 
smiling  ;  and  shivering,  she  looked  no  more. 

On  they  sped  with  loosened  rein,  o'er  grassy  mead, 
through  ferny  hollows,  o'erleaping  chattering  rill 
that  babbled  to  the  moon,  'mid  swaying  reeds  and 
whispering  sedge,  past  crouching  bush  and  stately 
tree,  and  so  at  last  they  reached  the  woods.  By 
shadowy  brake  and  thicket,  through  pools  of  radiant 
moonlight,  through  leafy,  whispering  glooms  they 
held  their  way,  across  broad  glade  and  clearing, 
on  and  on  until  all  noise  of  pursuit  was  lost  and 
nought  was  to  hear  save  the  sounds  of  their  going. 

Thus  rode  they,  and  with  never  a  word  betwixt 

223 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

them,  deep  and  deeper  into  the  wild  until  the  moon 
was  down  and  darkness  shut  them  in;  wherefore 
Jocelyn  drew  rein  and  sat  a  while  to  listen.  He 
heard  the  good  steed,  deep-breathing,  snuff  at  dewy- 
grass  ;  a  stir  and  rustle  all  about  him ;  the  drowsy 
call  of  a  bird  afar ;  the  soft  ripple  of  water  hard  by 
and,  over  all,  the  deep  hush  of  the  wild-wood.  Then 
upon  this  hush  stole  a  whisper : 

"O,  'tis  very  dark!" 

He  :  Dark,  Lady  ?  Why  so  't  is,  and  yet  't  is 
natural,  for  't  is  night,  wherefore  't  is  the  bright  god 
Phcebus  is  otherwhere,  and  Dian,  sly-sweet  goddess, 
hath  stole  her  light  from  heaven,  wherefore  't  is  't  is 
dark,  lady. 

She  :  Where  are  we  ? 

He  :  The  sweet  Saints  know  that,  lady  —  not  I ! 

She  {scornfully)  :  Verily,  thou  art  no  saint 

He  :  Not  yet,  lady,  not  yet  —  witness  these  ass's 
ears. 

She  :  True,  thou  'rt  very  Fool !  , 

He  :  In  very  truth,  lady,  and  thou  art  lost  with 
this  same  Fool,  so  art  thou  in  very  woeful  case.  As 
for  me,  a  lost  fool  is  no  matter,  wherefore  Fool  for 
himself  grieveth  no  whit.  But  for  thee  —  alas ! 
Thou  art  a  proud  lady  of  high  degree,  very  nice  of 
thy  dainty  person,  soft  and  delicate  of  body,  so  shall 
the  greensward  prove  for  thee  uneasy  couch,  I  judge, 
and  thou  sleep  ill 

She  :  Sleep  ?  No  thought  have  I  of  sleep  !  Ride 
on,  therefore.     Why  tarry  we  here  ? 

He  :  Lady,  for  three  sufficing  reasons  —  our  foes 
pursue  not,  I  'm  a-weary,  and  't  is  very  dark 

She  :   No  matter  !     Ride  on,  I  do  command  thee. 

He  :  Aye,  but  whither  ? 

She  :  I  care  not  so  thou  leave  this  place ;  't  is  an 
evil  place ! 

224 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

He  :  Why,  't  is  good  place,  very  well  secluded  and 
with  stream  hard  by  that  bubbleth.  So  here  will 
we  bide  till  dawn.     Suffer  me  to  aid  thee  down. 

She  :  Touch  me  not !  Never  think  I  fear  thee 
though  I  am  alone. 

He  :  Alone  ?  Nay,  thou  'rt  with  me,  that  is  — 
I  am  with  thee  and  thou  art  with  a  Fool.  So  is 
Fool  care-full  Fool  since  Fool  hath  care  of  thee. 
Suffer  me  now  to  aid  thee  down  since  here  will  we 
wait  the  day.  Come,  my  arm  about  thee  so,  thy 
hand  in  mine 

She  {angrily)  :  O  Fool  most  base  —  most  vile 

He  :  Nay,  hush  thee,  hush !  and  listen  to  yon 
blithesome,  bubblesome,  babbling  brook  how  it 
sigheth  'mid  the  willows,  whispereth  under  reedy 
bank  and  laugheth,  rogue-like,  in  the  shallows ! 
Listen  how  it  wooeth  thee : 

Though,  lady,  hard  thy  couch  must  be, 

If  thou  should'st  wakeful  lie, 

Here,  from  the  dark,  I  '11  sing  to  thee 

A  drowsy  lullaby. 

O  lady  fair  —  forget  thy  pride 

Whiles  thou  within  the  greenwood  bide. 

And  now  suffer  me  to  aid  thee  down. 

She  :   Why  wilt  thou  stay  me  in  this  evil  place  ? 

He  {patiently) :  The  wild  is  ill  travelling  in  the  dark, 
lady  ;  there  be  quagmires  and  perilous  ways  —  where- 
fore here  must  we  bide  till  dawn.     Suffer  me  to 

She  {breathlessly  and  shrinking  from  his  touch)  : 
But  I  fear  not  quagmires  —  there  be  greater  perils  — 
more  shameful  and  —  and  —  't  is  so  dark,  so  dark  ! 
'T  is  hateful  place.     Ride  we  till  it  be  day 

He  {mockingly)  :  Perils,  lady  ?  Why  certes  there 
be  perils  —  and  perils.     Perils  that  creep  and  crawl, 

225 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

perils  that  go  on  four  legs  and  perils  two-legged  — 
e'en  as  I.  But  I,  though  two-legged,  am  but  very 
fool  of  fools  and  nothing  perilous  in  blazing  day  or 
blackest  night.  So  stint  thy  fears,  lady,  for  here 
bide  we  till  dawn  ! 

Herewith  he  caught  her  in  sudden  arms  and  lifted 
her  to  the  ground ;  then,  dismounting,  he  set  about 
watering  and  cherishing  the  wearied  steed  and 
tethered  him  beside  a  dim  stream  that  rippled  be- 
neath shadowy  willows ;  and  so  doing,  fell  a-singing 
on  this  wise : 


"'Fair  lady,  thou  'rt  lost !'  quoth  he, 

Sing  derry,  derry  down. 
'And  O,  't  is  dark  —  't  is  dark  !'  quoth  she, 
'And  in  the  dark  dire  perils  be,' 

O,  derry,  derry  down  ! 

"Quoth  he :  'Fair  lady,  stint  thy  fear,* 

Sing  derry,  derry  down. 
'I,  being  Fool,  will  sit  me  here, 
And,  till  the  kindly  sun  appear, 

Sing  derry,  derry  down. 

t 

"'I  '11  make  for  thee,  like  foolish  wight, 
Hey,  derry,  derry  down, 
A  song  that  shall  out-last  dark  night, 
And  put  thy  foolish  fears  to  flight 
With  derry,  derry  down. 

"'For  'tis  great  shame  thou  shouldst  fear  so, 
Hey,  derry,  derry  down, 
A  peril  that  two-legged  doth  go, 
Since  he  's  but  humble  Fool,  I  trow, 
With  derry,  derry  down."* 

226 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Thus  sang  he,  a  dim  figure  beside  dim  stream  and, 
having  secured  the  horse,  sat  him  down  thereby  and 
took  forth  his  lute. 

But  Yolande,  though  he  could  not  see,  clenched 
white  fists  and,  though  he  could  not  hear,  stamped 
slim  foot  at  him. 

"Joconde,"  quoth  she,  betwixt  clenched  teeth, 
"  Joconde,  I  —  scorn  thee  !" 

"Alack!"  he  sighed.  "Alack,  and  my  lute  hath 
taken  sore  scath  of  a  sword-thrust !" 

" Thou  'rt  hateful  —  hateful ! "  she  cried.  "Aye  — 
hateful  as  thy  hateful  song,  so  do  I  contemn  thee 
henceforth !" 

"Say'st  thou  so,  lady,  forsooth?"  sighed  he, 
busied  with  his  lute.  "Now  were  I  other  than  Fool, 
here  should  I  judge  was  hope  of  winning  thy  love. 
But  being  only  Fool  I,  with  aid  of  woe-begone  lute, 
will  sing  thee  merry  song  to  cheer  thee  of  thy  perilous 

"Enough,  ill  Fool,  I  '11  hear  thee  not !" 

"So  be  it,  dear  lady!  Then  will  we  sit  an  list 
to  the  song  of  yon  stream,  for  streams  and  rivers, 
like  the  everlasting  hills,  are  passing  wise  with  length 
of  days " 

"And  thou 'rt  a  very  Fool!"  she  cried  angrily. 
"A  fond  Fool  presumptuous  in  thy  folly !" 

"As  how  presumptuous,  proud  lady?"  he  ques- 
tioned humbly. 

"  In  that  thou  dreamest  I  —  stoop  to  fear 
thee!" 

"Aye,  verily!"  sighed  he.  "Alas,  thou  poor, 
solitary,  foolish,  fearful  maid,  thou  art  sick  with 
fear  of  me!  So  take  now  my  dagger!  Thus  Fool 
offenceless  shall  lie  defenceless  at  thy  mercy  and, 
so  lying,  sleep  until  joyous  day  shall  banish  thy  so 
virginal  fears!"     Which  saying,  he  tossed  off  belt 

227 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

and  dagger  and  setting  them  beside  her,  rolled 
his  weather-worn  cloak  about  him,  stretched  him- 
self beneath  the  dim  willows  and  straightway  fell 
a-snoring.  And  after  some  while  she  questioned 
him  in  voice  low  and  troubled : 

"O  Joconde,  art  truly  sleeping?" 

"Fair  lady,"  he  answered,  "let  these  my  so  loud 
snores  answer  thee." 

Up  sprang  Yolande  and,  coming  beside  him  in 
the  gloom,  cast  back  his  girdle,  speaking  quick  and 
passionate : 

"  Take  back  thy  dagger  lest  I  be  tempted  to 
smite  it  to  the  cruel,  mocking  heart  of  thee  !"  Then 
turned  she  stately  back  and  left  him,  but,  being  hid 
from  view,  cast  herself  down  full  length  upon  the 
sward,  her  pride  and  stateliness  forgotten  quite. 
Now  Jocelyn,  propped  on  uneasy  elbow,  peered  amid 
the  gloom  for  sight  of  her  and  hearkened  eagerly 
for  sound  of  her;  but  finding  this  vain,  arose  and, 
creeping  stealthily,  presently  espied  her  where  she 
lay,  face  hidden  in  the  dewy  grass.  Thus  stood  he 
chin  in  hand  disquieted  and  anxious-eyed  and  wist 
not  what  to  do. 

"Lady?"  he  questioned  at  last;  but  she  stirred 
not  nor  spoke.  "Yolande!"  he  murmured,  draw- 
ing nearer ;  but  still  she  moved  not,  though  his  quick 
ear  caught  a  sound  faint  though  very  pitiful.  "Ah, 
dost  thou  weep  ?  "  he  cried.  Yolande  sobbed  again, 
whereupon  down  fell  he  beside  her  on  his  knees, 
"Dear  lady,  why  grievest  thou?" 

"O  Joconde,"  she  sighed,  "I  am  indeed  solitary  — 
and  fearful !     And  thou  —  thou  dost  mock  me  !" 

"Forgive  me,"  he  pleaded  humbly,  "and,  since 
thou  'rt  solitary,  here  am  I.  And,  for  thy  fears, 
nought  is  here  shall  harm  thee,  here  may'st  thou 
sleep  secure " 

228 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Stay,  Joconde,  the  forest  is  haunted  of  wolves 
and  —  worse,  't  is  said  !" 

"Then  will  I  watch  beside  thee  till  the  day.  And 
now  will  I  go  cut  bracken  for  thy  bed." 

"Then  will  I  aid  thee."  So  she  arose  forthwith 
and,  amid  the  fragrant  gloom,  they  laboured  to- 
gether side  by  side ;  and  oft  in  the  gloom  her  hand 
touched  his,  .and  oft  upon  his  cheek  and  brow  and 
lip  was  the  silken  touch  of  her  wind-blown  hair. 
Then  beneath  arching  willows  they  made  a  bed, 
high-piled  of  springy  bracken  and  sweet  grasses, 
whereon  she  sank  nestling,  forthwith. 

"O,  'tis  sweet  couch  !"  she  sighed. 

"Yet  thou 'It  be  cold  mayhap  ere  dawn,"  quoth 
he,  "suffer  me  to  set  my  cloak  about  thee." 

"But  how  of  thyself,  Joconde?" 

"I  am  a  Fool  well  seasoned  of  wind  and  rain, 
heat  and  cold,  lady,  and  't  is  night  of  summer."  So 
he  covered  her  with  his  travel-stained  cloak  and, 
sitting  beneath  a  tree,  fell  to  his  watch.  And  oft 
she  stirred  amid  the  fern,  deep-sighing,  and  he, 
broad  back  against  the  tree,  sighed  oftener  yet. 

"Art  there,  Joconde?"   she  questioned  softly. 

"Here,  lady." 

"'Tis  very  dark,"  sighed  she,  "and  yet,  methinks, 
't  is  sweet  to  lie  thus  in  the  greenwood  so  hushed  and 
still  and  the  stars  to  watch  like  eyes  of  angels." 

"Why,  'tis  night  of  summer,  lady,  a  night  soft 
and  languorous  and  fragrant  of  sleeping  flowers. 
But  how  of  grim  winter,  how  of  rain  and  wind  and 
lashing  tempest  —  how  think  you?" 

"That  summer  would  come  again,  Joconde." 

"Truly  here  is  brave  thought,  lady." 

"Hark,  how  still  is  the  night,  Joconde,  and  yet  full 
of  soft  stir,  a  sighing  amid  the  leaves  !  'T  is  like  the 
trees  whispering  one  another.     O,  't  is  sweet  night !" 

229 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Soon  to  pass  away,  alas!"  he  sighed,  where- 
upon she,  stirring  upon  her  ferny  couch,  sighed  also ; 
thereafter  fell  they  silent  awhile  hearkening  to  the 
leafy  stirrings  all  about  them  in  the  dark,  and  the 
slumberous  murmur  of  the  stream  that,  ever  and 
anon,  brake  into  faint  gurglings  like  a  voice  that 
laughed,  soft  but  roguish. 

She  :  I  pray  thee  talk  to  me. 

He  :  Whereof,  lady  ? 

She:  Thyself. 

He  :  I  am  a  Fool 

She  :  And  why  sit  so  mumchance  ? 

He  :  I  think. 

She  :  Of  what  ? 

He:  Folly. 

She  :  And  why  dost  sigh  so  deep  and  oft  ? 

He  :  I  grieve  for  thee. 

She  :  For  me  !     And  wherefore  ? 

He  :  Being  lost  with  a  Fool  thou  'rt  desolate,  sad 
and  woeful. 

She:  Am  I,  Joconde?  And  how  dost  know  all 
this? 

He  :  'T  is  so  I  do  think,  lady. 

She:  Then  are  thy  thoughts  folly  indeed.  If 
thou  must  sigh,  sigh  for  thyself. 

He  :  Why  so  I  do,  lady,  and  therewith  grieve  for 
myself  and  thyself,  myself  being  Fool  and  thyself  a 
dame  of  high  degree,  thus,  betwixt  whiles,  I  do  fear 
thee  also. 

She  :  Thou  fear  !  Thou  fear  me  forsooth  !  And 
wherefore  fear  a  helpless  maid  ? 

He  :  There  is  the  reason  —  she  is  helpless  ! 

She  :  Ah,  there  doth  Fool  speak  like  chivalrous 
knight. 

He  :  Or  very  fool  —  a  fool  that  fain  would  win 
fair  Dian  from  high  heaven.     Alas,  poor  Fool,  that, 

230 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

being  fool,  must  needs  look  and  sigh  and  sigh  and 
look  and  leave  her  to  the  winning  of  some  young 
Endymion ! 

She  (dreamily) :  Endymion  was  but  lowly  shep- 
herd,  yet  was  he  loved  ! 

He  :  Endymion  was  fair  youth  comely  of  feature, 
lady.  Now  had  he  worn  ass's  ears  'bove  visage 
scarred  —  how  then  ?  On  Ida's  mount  he  had  been 
sighing  forlorn  and  lonely  yet,  methinks.  For 
maids'  hearts  are  ever  governed  by  their  eyes 

She  :  Art  so  wise  in  maids'  hearts,  Joconde? 

He  :  Wise  am  I  in  this  :  No  man  may  ever  know 
the  heart  of  a  woman  —  and  woman  herself  but 
seldom. 

Now  here  was  silence  again  wherein  Yolande, 
smiling,  viewed  him  a  dim  shape  in  the  gloom,  and 
he  leaned  back  to  watch  a  star  that  twinkled  through 
the  leafy  canopy  above. 

She  :  Thou  art  Duke  Jocelyn's  Fool  at  court  ? 

He  :  I  am  Duke  Jocelyn's  fool  here  and  there  and 
everywhere,  lady. 

She  :  Yet  have  I  heard  Duke  Jocelyn  was  a 
mighty  man-at-arms  and,  though  youthful,  sober- 
minded,  full  of  cares  of  state  and  kept  no  Fool  at  court. 

He  :  Lady,  his  court  is  filled  o'  fools  as  is  the  way 
of  other  courts  and  amongst  these  many  fools  first 
cometh  the  Duke  himself 

She  :  How,  and  darest  thou  call  this  mighty  Duke 
a  fool  ? 

He  :  Often,  lady  ! 

She  :  And  what  like  is  he  ? 

He:  Very  like  a  man,  being  endowed  of  arms, 
legs,  eyes,  ears  —  of  each  two,  no  more  and  no  less, 
as  is  the  vulgar  custom. 

She  :  But  is  he  not  of  beauty  high  and  noble,  of 
god-like  perfection  far  beyond  poor,  common  flesh 

231 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

and  blood  ?  'T  is  so  the  painter  has  limned  his  face, 
't  is  so  I  dream  him  to  my  fancy. 

He  :  Lady,  I  am  but  a  Fool,  let  the  picture  answer 
thee. 

She  :  And  he,  this  mighty  Duke  of  god-like  beauty 
doth  woo  me  to  his  wife 

He  {bitterly)  :  With  my  tongue. 

She  :  Why  came  he  not  in  his  own  glorious 
person  ? 

He  :  Lady,  though  a  Duke,  he  hath  his  moments 
of  wisdom  and  argueth  thus  :  "I,  though  a  Duke,  am 
yet  a  man.  Thus,  should  I  as  Duke  woo  her,  she 
may  wed  the  Duke,  loving  not  the  man " 

She  :  And  so  he  sent  a  Fool  as  his  ambassador ! 
And  so  do  I  scorn  this  god-like  Duke . 

He  :  Ha  !  Scorn  him  !  My  lady  —  O  Yolande, 
what  of  me  ? 

She  :  Thou,  false  to  him  and  faithless  to  thy  trust, 
didst  woo  me  for  thyself  which  was  ill  in  thee.  But 
thou  didst  throw  the  terrible  Red  Gui  into  my  lily- 
pool  which  was  brave  in  thee.  Thou  didst  endure 
chains  and  a  prison  undaunted  which  was  noble  in 
thee.  Thou  didst  this  night  at  peril  of  thy  life  save 
me  from  shame,  but  thou  didst  bear  me  ungently 
here  into  the  wild,  and  in  the  wild  here  lie  I  beside 
thee,  lost,  yet  warm  and  sleepy  and  safe  beneath 
thy  cloak  —  and  so  —  't  is  very  well 

He:  Safe,  Yolande?  Hath  thy  heart  told  thee 
this  at  last  ?     But  thou  didst  fear  me 

She  :  Because  to-night  thou  didst  clasp  me  in 
cruel  arms  and  spake  me  words  of  love  passionate 
and  fierce  and  —  and 

He  :  Kissed  thee,  Yolande  ! 

She  :  Many  times  —  O  cruel !  And  bore  me 
hither  and  lost  me  in  these  dark  solitudes !  Here 
was  good  cause  for  any  maid  to  fear  thee  methinks. 

232 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Yet  thou  didst  basely  mock  my  fears  with  thy  hateful 
song  of  "Derry  down." 

He  :  Because  thy  fears,  being  unjust,  hurt  me, 
for  ah,  Yolande,  my  love  for  thee  is  deep  and  true, 
and  True-love  is  ever  gentle  and  very  humble. 

She  :  Thus  do  I  fear  thee  no  more,  Joconde  ! 

He  :  Because  I  am  but  lowly  —  a  Fool  beneath 
thy  proud  disdain  ? 

She:  Nay,  Joconde.  Because  thou  art  indeed  a 
very  man.  So  now  shall  I  sleep  secure  since  nought 
of  evil  may  come  nigh  me  whiles  I  lie  in  thy  care. 

Thus  spake  she  softly  'mid  the  gloom,  and  turning 
upon  her  rustling  couch  sighed  and  presently  fell 
to  slumber. 

Now,  sitting  thus  beside  her  as  she  slept,  Jocelyn 
heard  the  stream  ripple  in  the  shadows  like  one  that 
laughed  soft  but  very  joyously  and,  as  he  gazed  up 
at  the  solitary  star  with  eyes  enraptured,  this  elfin 
laughter  found  its  echo  in  his  heart. 

A  bird  chirped  drowsily  from  mazy  thicket  where 
sullen  shadow  thinned,  little  by  little,  until  behind 
leaf  and  twig  was  a  glimmer  of  light  that  waxed  ever 
brighter.  And  presently  amid  this  growing  bright- 
ness was  soft  stir  and  twitter,  sleepy  chirpings 
changed  to  notes  of  wistful  sweetness,  a  plaintive 
calling  that  was  answered  from  afar. 

Thus  the  birds  awaking  sounded  pretty  warnings 
summoning  each  to  each  for  that  the  day-spring  was 
at  hand,  while  ever  the  brightness  changed  to 
radiance  and  radiance  to  an  orient  glory  and  up 
flamed  the  sun  in  majesty  and  it  was  day.  And  now, 
from  brake  and  thicket,  from  dewy  mysteries  of 
green  boskage  burst  forth  the  sweet,  glad  chorus  of 
bird-song,  full  throated,  passionate  of  joy. 

And  Jocelyn,  sitting  broad  back  against  a  tree, 

233 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

felt  his  soul  uplifted  thereby  what  time  his  eyes 
missed  nothing  of  the  beauties  about  him :  the 
rugged  boles  of  mighty  trees  bedappled  with  sunny 
splendour,  the  glittering  dew  that  gemmed  leaf  and 
twig  and  fronded  bracken,  and  the  shapely  loveliness 
of  her  who  slumbered  couched  beneath  his  worn  cloak, 
the  gentle  rise  and  fall  of  rounded  bosom  and  the 
tress  of  hair  that  a  fugitive  sunbeam  kissed  to  ruddy 
gold.  Thus  sat  Jocelyn  regardful,  gladness  in  the 
heart  of  him,  and  a  song  of  gladness  bubbling  to 
his  lips. 

Suddenly  he  saw  her  lashes  quiver,  her  rosy  lips 
parted  to  a  smile  and,  stirring  in  her  slumber,  she 
sighed  and  stretched  shapely  arms ;  so  waked  she 
to  a  glory  of  sun  and,  starting  to  an  elbow,  gazed 
round,  great-eyed,  until  espying  him,  she  smiled 
again. 

"Good  morrow,  Joconde !  Ne'er  have  I  slept 
sweeter.  But  thou  hast  out-watched  dark  night 
and  art  a-weary,  so  shalt  sleep  awhile " 

"Nay,"  he  answered,  "a  plunge  in  the  stream 
yonder  and  I  shall  be  blithe  for  the  road  —  an  we 
find  one.  And  I  do  fear  me  thou  'rt  hungry,  Yolande, 
and  I  have  nought  to  give  thee " 

"And  what  of  thyself,  man  ?  Verily,  I  read  hunger 
in  thy  look  and  weariness  also,  so,  an  thou  may'st 
not  eat,  sleep  thou  shalt  awhile  here  —  in  my  place." 

"Nay,  Yolande,  indeed " 

"Yea,  but  thou  must  indeed  whiles  I  watch  over 
thee.     'T  is  a  sweet  bed  —  come  thy  ways." 

"And  what  wilt  thou  do?"  he  questioned. 

"Much!"  she  answered,  viewing  her  rumpled 
gown  with  rueful  eyes.  "As  thou  say  est,  there  is 
the  pool  yonder !  So  come,  get  thee  to  bed  and  — 
sleep  !  Come,  let  me  cover  thee  with  thy  cloak  and 
gainsay  me  not ;  sleep  thou  must  and  shalt." 

234 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

So  Duke  Jocelyn  stretched  himself  obediently 
upon  the  bed  of  fern  and  suffered  her  to  cover  him 
with  the  cloak ;  but  as  she  stooped  above  him  thus, 
he  lifted  the  hem  of  her  dress  to  reverent  lips. 

"My  lady  !"   he  murmured.     "My  dear  lady  !" 

"Now  close  me  thine  eyes,  wearied  child!"  she 
commanded.  And,  like  a  child,  in  this  also  he 
obeyed  her,  albeit  unwillingly  by  reason  of  her 
radiant  beauty,  but  hearing  her  beside  him,  was 
content,  and  thus  presently  fell  to  happy  sleeping. 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  was  high  and  he  lay 
awhile  basking  in  this  grateful  radiance  and  joying 
in  the  pervading  quiet ;  but  little  by  little,  growing 
uneasy  by  reason  of  this  stillness,  he  started  up  to 
glance  about  him  and  knew  sudden  dread  for  the 
little  glade  was  empty  —  Yolande  had  vanished ; 
moreover  the  horse  was  gone  also. 

Cold  with  an  awful  fear  he  got  him  to  his  feet 
and  looked  hither  and  yon,  but  nowhere  found  any 
sign  of  violence  or  struggle.  But  like  one  distraught 
he  turned  to  seek  her,  her  name  upon  his  lips,  then, 
checking  voice  and  movement,  stood  rigid,  smitten 
by  hateful  doubt.  For  now  it  seemed  to  him  that 
her  gentle  looks  and  words  had  been  but  sweet 
deceits  to  blind  him  to  her  purpose  and  now,  so  soon 
as  she  had  lulled  him  to  sleep,  she  had  stolen  away, 
leaving  him  for  the  poor,  piteous  fool  he  was.  And 
now  his  despair  was  'whelmed  in  sudden  anger,  and 
anger,  little  by  little,  changed  to  grief.  She  was 
fled  away  and  he  a  sorry  fool  and  very  desolate. 

Full  of  these  bitter  thoughts  he  cast  himself  upon 
his  face  and,  lying  as  in  a  pit  of  gloom,  knew  a  great 
bitterness. 

Slowly,  slowly,  borne  upon  the  gentle  wind  came 
a  fragrance  strange  and  unexpected,  a  savour  de- 
lectable of  cooking  meat  that  made  him  know  him- 

235 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

self  a  man  vastly  hungry  despite  his  grievous  woe. 
But,  lying  within  the  black  gulf  of  bitterness,  he 
stirred  not  until,  of  a  sudden,  he  heard  a  voice,  rich 
and  full  and  very  sweet,  upraised  in  joyous  singing ; 
and  these  the  words  : 

"Rise,  O  laggard  !     See  the  sun, 
To  climb  in  glory  hath  begun  : 
The  flowers  have  oped  their  pretty  eyes, 
The  happy  lark  doth  songful  rise, 
And  merry  birds  in  flowery  brake, 
Full-throated,  joyous  clamours  make ; 
And  I,  indeed,  that  love  it  not, 
Do  sit  alone  and  keel  the  pot, 
Whiles  thus  I  sing  thee  to  entreat, 
O  sleepy  laggard  —  come  and  eat ! " 

"Forsooth  and  art  sleeping  yet,  Joconde?"  the 
voice  questioned.  Duke  Jocelyn  lifted  woeful  head 
and  saw  her  standing  tall  and  shapely  amid  the 
leaves,  fresh  and  sweet  as  the  morn  itself,  with 
laughter  within  her  dream-soft  eyes  and  laughter 
on  her  vivid  lips  and  the  sun  bright  in  the  braided 
tresses  of  her  hair  wherein  she  had  set  wild  flowers 
like  jewels. 

"Yolande!"  he  murmured,  coming  to  his  knees, 
"  Yolande  —  how  glorious  thou  art !" 

"Nay,"  she  laughed,  yet  flushing  to  the  worship 
of  his  eyes,  "and  my  habit  woefully  torn  of  wicked 
bramble-thorns,  and  my  hair  ill-braided  and  all  un- 
combed and " 

"Ah,  Yolande,  I  thought  thee  fled  and  I  left  to 
loneliness,  and  my  pain  was  very  sore." 

"Then  am  I  avenged  thy  mockery,  Joconde,  and 
thy  song  of  'Derry  down.'  'Twas  for  this  I  stole 
away !     But  now,  if  thou  'rt  hungry  man,  come  thy 

236 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

ways."  And  she  reached  him  her  hand.  So  she 
brought  him  to  a  little  dell  where  burned  a  fire  of 
sticks  beneath  a  pot  whence  stole  right  savoury 
odour. 

"O  most  wonderful!"  quoth  he.  "Whence  came 
these  goodly  viands?" 

"Where  but  from  the  wallet  behind  thy  horse's 
saddle,  Joconde?"  Then  down  sat  they  forthwith 
side  by  side  and  ate  heartily  and  were  very  blithe 
together ;  and  oft-times  their  looks  would  meet  and 
they  would  fall  silent  awhile.  At  last,  the  meal 
ended,  Jocelyn,  turning  from  Yolande's  beauty  to 
the  beauty  of  the  world  around,  spake  soft -voiced : 

"  Yolande,  were  mine  a  selfish  love,  here,  lost  within 
these  green  solitudes,  would  I  keep  thee  for  mine 
own  —  to  serve  and  worship  thee  unto  my  life's  end. 
But,  since  I  count  thy  happiness  above  my  dearest 
desires,  now  will  I  go  saddle  the  horse  and  bear  thee 
hence." 

'Whither,  Joconde,  whither  wilt  thou  bear  me?" 

"Back  to  the  world,"  said  he  ruefully,  "thy  world 
of  prideful  luxury,  to  thy  kindred." 

"But  I  have  no  kindred,  alas  !"  sighed  she,  stoop- 
ing to  caress  a  daisy-flower  that  grew  adjacent. 

^Why,  then,  thy  friends " 

"My  friends  be  very  few,  Joconde,  and  Benedicta 
hath  her  husband." 

'Yolande,"  said  he,  leaning  nearer,  "whither 
should  I  bear  thee?" 

"Nay,"  saith  she,  patting  the  daisy  with  gentle 
finger-tip,  "go  thou  and  saddle  thy  horse,  mayhap 
I  shall  know  this  anon.  Go  thou  and  saddle  the 
horse."  So  Jocelyn  arose  and  having  saddled  and 
bridled  the  horse,  back  he  cometh  to  find  Yolande 
on  her  knees  beside  the  stream,  and  she,  hearing 
his  step,  bowed  her  head,  hiding  her  face  from  him ; 

237 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

now  on  the  sward  beside  her  lay  the  picture  shattered 
beyond  repair. 

"How,"  said  Jocelyn,  "hast  broken  the  Duke's 
picture,  lady !" 

"Thou  seest !"  she  answered. 

"And  must  thou  weep  therefore?"  said  he  a  little 
bitterly.  "Oh,  be  comforted  ;  't  was  but  a  toy — soon 
will  I  get  thee  another." 

"An  thou  bring  me  another,  Joconde,  that  will  I 
break  also." 

"Ha  —  thou  didst  break  it  —  wilfully,  then  ?" 

"With  this  stone,  Joconde." 

"Wherefore,  0  wherefore  ?"  he  questioned  eagerly. 

"For  that  it  was  but  painted  toy,  even  as  thou 
sayest!"  she  answered.  "Moreover,  I  —  love  not 
Duke  Jocelyn." 

"And  't  was  for  this  thou  didst  break  the  picture  ?  " 

"Nay,  'twas  because  these  painted  features  may 
never  compare  with  the  face  of  him  I  love." 

"And  whom  —  whom  dost  thou  love?"  quoth 
he,  in  voice  low  and  unsteady.  Speaking  not,  she 
pointed  with  slender  finger  down  into  the  placid 
stream.  Wondering,  he  bent  to  look  and  thus  from 
the  stilly  water  his  mirrored  image  looked  back  at 
him ;  now  as  he  stooped  so  stooped  she,  and  in  this 
watery  mirror  their  glances  met. 

"Yolande?"  he  whispered.  "O  my  lady,  shall 
a  Fool's  fond  dream  come  true,  or  am  I  mad  indeed  ? 
Thou  in  thy  beauty  and  I " 

"Thou,  Joconde,"  said  she,  fronting  him  with 
head  proudly  uplift,  "to  my  thought  thou  art  a 
man  greater,  nobler  than  any  proud  lord  or  mighty 
duke  soever.  And  thou  hast  loved  and  wooed  as 
never  man  wooed,  methinks.  And  thou  art  so  brave 
and  strong  and  so  very  gentle  and  —  thus  it  is  —  I 
do  love  thee." 

238 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

But  my  —  my  motley  habit,  my 


"Thy  cap  of  Folly,  Joconde,  these  garments  pied 
thou  hast  dignified  by  thy  very  manhood,  so  are 
they  dearer  to  me  than  lordly  tire  or  knightly  armour. 
And  thy  jingling  bells  —  ah,  Joconde,  the  jingle  of 
thy  bells  hath  waked  within  my  heart  that  which 
shall  never  die  —  long  time  my  heart  hath  cried  for 
thee,  and  I,  to  my  shame,  heeded  not  the  cry,  where- 
fore here  and  now,  thus  upon  my  knees,  I  do  most 
humbly  confess  my  love." 

"Thy  love,  Yolande  —  for  me?  Then  dost  truly 
love  me?  Oh,  here  is  marvel  beyond  my  under- 
standing and  belief." 

"Why,  Joconde,  ah,  why?" 

"See!"  he  cried,  flinging  back  his  head.  "Look 
now  upon  this  blemished  face  —  here  where  the 
cruel  sun  may  shew  thee  all  my  ugliness,  every 
scar  —  behold !  How  may  one  so  beautiful  as 
thou  learn  love  for  one  so  lowly  and  with  face  thus 
hatefully  marred  ?  I  have  watched  thee  shrink  from 
me  ere  now !  I  mind  how,  beside  the  lily-pool 
within  thy  garden,  thou  didst  view  me  with  eyes  of 
horror !  I  do  mind  thy  very  words  —  the  first  that 
e'er  I  heard  thee  utter  : 

'What  thing  art  thou  that  'neath  thy  hood  doth 

show 
A  visage  that  might  shame  the  gladsome  day  ? ' 

Yolande,  Yolande,  this  poor  blemished  face  is 
nothing  changed  since  then ;  such  as  I  was,  such  I 
am  ! 

"Alas,  Joconde!"  she  cried,  reaching  out  her 
hands  in  passionate  appeal.  "My  words  were  base, 
cruel  —  and  hurt  me  now  more,  ah,  much  more, 
than  e'er  they  wounded  thee.     For  I  do  love  thee 

239 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

with  love  as  deep,  as  true  as  is  thine  own !  Wilt 
not  believe  me  ?  " 

"Oh,  that  I  might  indeed  !"  he  groaned.  "But  — 
thou  'rt  alone,  far  from  thy  home  and  friends,  thy 
wonted  pride  and  state  forgotten  all  —  mayhap 
thou  dost  pity  me  or  mayhap  't  is  thy  gratitude  in 
guise  of  love  doth  speak  me  thus  ?  But  as  thou  art 
still  thine  own  lovely  self,  so  am  I  that  same  poor, 
motley  Fool  whose  hateful  face " 

"  Joconde,"  she  cried,  "hush  thee — Oh,  hush  thee ! 
Thy  words  are  whips  to  lash  me  !"  and  catching  his 
hand  she  kissed  it  and  cherished  it  'gainst  tear-wet 
cheek.  "Ah,  Joconde,"  she  sighed,  "so  wise  and 
yet  so  foolish,  know'st  thou  not  thy  dear,  scarred 
face  is  the  face  of  him  I  love,  for  love  hath  touched 
my  eyes  and  I  do  see  thee  at  last  as  thou  truly  art, 
a  man  great  of  soul,  tender  and  strong-hearted.  So 
art  thou  a  man,  the  only  man,  my  man.  Oh,  that  I 
might  but  prove  my  love  for  thee,  prove  it  to  thee 
and  before  all  men,  no  matter  how,  so  I  might  but 
banish  thy  cruel  doubts  for  ever.  But  now,  for  thy 
dear,  scarred  face " 

Her  soft,  round  arms  were  about  his  neck;  and 
drawing  him  to  her  lips  she  kissed  him,  his  scarred 
brow  and  cheek,  his  eyes,  his  lips  grown  dumb  with 
wondering  joy.  Thus,  lip  to  lip  and  with  arms  en- 
twined, knelt  they  beside  that  slow-moving  stream 
that  whispered  softly  beneath  the  bank  and  gurgled 
roguish  laughter  in  the  shallows. 

A  dog  barked  faintly  in  the  distance,  a  frog 
croaked  hoarsely  from  the  neighbouring  sedge,  but 
lost  in  the  wonder  of  their  love,  they  heeded  only 
the  beating  of  their  hearts. 

"A-billing  and  a-cooing !  A-cooing  and  a-billing, 
as  I  'm  a  tanner  true!"  exclaimed  a  hoarse  voice. 
Up  started  Jocelyn,  fierce-eyed  and  with  hand  on 

240 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

dagger-hilt,  to  behold  a  man  with  shock  of  red  hair, 
a  man  squat  and  burly  who,  leaning  on  bow-stave, 
peered  at  them  across  the  stream. 

"And  is  it  Will  the  Tanner?"  quoth  Jocelyn, 
loosing  his  dagger. 

"None  else,  friend  Motley." 

"Why  then,  God  keep  thee !  And  now  go  about 
thy  business." 

"Marry,  Fool,  I  am  about  my  business,  the  which 
is  to  find  thee.  By  Saint  Nick,  there  's  mighty  hue 
and  cry  for  thee  up  and  down  within  the  greenwood, 
aye  —  marry  is  there,  as  I  'm  a  tanner  tried  and  true. 
So  needs  must  thou  along  wi'  me." 

"  With  thee,  Tanner  ?     And  wherefore  ?  " 

"Why,  I  know  not  wherefore,  Fool,  but  must 
along.  Here  's  me  and  Lob  and  the  potent  hag  that 
is  Mopsa  the  Witch,  lain  a-watching  and  a-watching 
ye  a-billing  —  nay,  scowl  not,  friend  Fool,  on  tanner 
trusty,  tried  and  true.  For  hark  now,  here  's  great 
stir,  clamour  and  to-do  within  this  forest-country 
for  thee,  Fool,  the  which  is  strange,  seeing  thou  art 
but  a  motley  fool.  Howbeit  there  be  many  great 
lords  and  knights  from  beyond  the  Southern  March 
a-seeking  of  thee,  Fool." 

"Ha!"  quoth  Jocelyn,  frowning.  "Envoys  from 
Brocelaunde !" 

"Alas,  Joconde,  and  seeking  thee  !"  saith  Yolande 
in  troubled  voice. 

"Moreover,"  continued  Will,  "here's  our  Duke 
Pertinax  and  his  lady  Duchess  yearning  for  thee, 
here  's  Robin  that  is  Sir  Robert  a-clamouring  for 
thee  and  all  his  goodly  foresters,  as  myself,  a-seeking 
thee." 

"But  't  is  I  found  thee,  Sir  Long-legged  Fool,  I  — 
I!"  croaked  a  voice,  and  old  Mopsa  the  Witch 
peered  at  them  from  a  bush  hard  by. 

241 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"Verily,  thou  hast  found  us!"  quoth  Jocelyn 
ruefully.    "And  what  now?" 

"Oho!"  cried  the  Witch,  cracking  her  finger- 
bones.  "Now  go  I  hot-foot  to  weave  spells  and  en- 
chantments, aha  —  oho  !  Spells  that  shall  prove 
the  false  from  the  true,  the  gold  from  the  dross. 
Thou,  Sir  Fool,  art  doubting  lover,  so  art  thou  blind 
lover !  I  will  resolve  thee  thy  doubts,  open  thy  eyes 
and  show  thee  great  joy  or  bitter  sorrow  —  oho ! 
Thou,  proud  lady,  hast  stooped  to  love  a  motley 
mountebank  —  nay,  flash  not  thy  bright  eyes  nor 
toss  haughty  head  at  an  old  woman  —  but  here  is 
solitude  with  none  to  mock  thy  lowly  choice  or  cry 
thee  shame  to  love  a  motley  Fool,  aha !  And  thou 
would'st  fain  prove  thy  love  True-love,  says  thou  ? 
Why,  so  thou  shalt  —  beyond  all  doubting  now  and 
for  ever,  aha  —  oho !  Truest  of  true  or  falsest  of 
false.     Beware.     Farewell,  and  remember : 

"  Follow  Folly  and  be  wise, 
In  such  folly  wisdom  lies, 
Love  's  blind,  they  say ;  but  Love  hath  eyes, 
So  follow  Folly,  follow. 

Hither-ho,  Lob-Lobkyn  !  Lend  thine  old  granddam 
thine  arm.  Come,  my  pretty  bantling,  sweet  poppet 
—  come  and  —  away!"  So  spake  old  Mopsa  the 
Witch,  and  vanished  into  the  green  with  Lobkyn, 
who  turned  to  flourish  his  club  in  cheery  salutation 
ere  he  plunged  into  the  underbrush.  Then  Jocelyn 
smiled  down  on  Yolande  to  find  her  pale  and  trem- 
bling, so  would  he  have  clasped  her  to  his  heart,  but 
a  hand  grasped  him  and,  turning,  he  beheld  the 
Tanner  at  his  elbow. 

"Friend  Fool,"  quoth  he,  "needs  must  I  take  thee 
to  Robin  that  Sir  Robert  is,  e'en  as  he  did  com- 

242 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

mand,  so  come  now  thy  ways  with  trusty  tanner 
tried." 

"Off,  Red-head !"  saith  Jocelyn,  frowning  a  little. 
"Away  now,  lest  this  my  dagger  bite  thee."  Back 
leapt  Will  into  the  stream  whence  he  had  come,  and 
there  standing,  clapped  bugle  to  lip  and  winded  it 
lustily,  whereupon  came  divers  fellows  running,  bow 
in  hand,  who  beset  Jocelyn  on  every  side. 

"Now  yield  thee  to  Tanner,  friend,"  quoth  Will, 
knee-deep  in  the  stream,  "for  no  mind  have  I  to 
hurt  thee.  So  away  with  thy  dagger  like  gentle, 
kindly  Fool,  and  away  with  thee  to  Sir  Robin." 

Now  hereupon,  as  Jocelyn  frowned  upon  them, 
Yolande,  standing  a-tiptoe,  kissed  his  scarred  cheek 
and  clasped  his  dagger-hand  in  soft  fingers. 

"Come,"  she  pleaded,  "they  be  a-many,  so  yield 
me  thy  dagger  and  let  us  go  with  them,  beloved!" 
At  the  whispered  word  Jocelyn  loosed  the  dagger 
and,  clasping  her  instead,  kissed  her  full-lipped. 
Then  turned  he  to  his  captors. 

"I'm  with  thee,  Will,  thou  —  tanner!"  quoth 
he.  "And  now  bring  hither  the  horse  for  my  lady's 
going." 

"Nay,"  answered  Will,  scratching  red  head, 
"Rob  —  Sir  Robert  spake  nothing  of  horse  for  thee, 
or  lady." 

"Nor  will  I  ride,  Joconde,"  she  murmured  happily, 
"rather  will  I  trudge  beside  thee,  my  hand  in  thine 
—  thus!" 

So,  hand  in  hand,  they  went  close-guarded  by 
their  captors  yet  heeding  them  not  at  all,  having 
eyes  but  for  each  other.  And  oft  her  cheek  flushed 
rosy  beneath  his  look,  and  oft  he  thrilled  to  the 
warm,  close  pressure  of  her  fingers  ;  and  thus  tramped 
they  happy  in  their  captivity. 

The  sun  rose  high  and  higher,  but  since  for  them 

243 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

their  captors  were  not,  neither  was  fatigue ;  and, 
if  the  way  was  rough  there  was  Jocelyn's  ready  hand, 
while  for  him  swamps  and  brooks  were  a  joy  since 
he  might  bear  her  in  his  arms.  Thus  tramped  they 
by  shady  dingle  and  sunny  glade,  through  marshy 
hollows  and  over  laughing  rills,  until  the  men  began 
to  mutter  their  discontent,  in  especial  a  swart,  hairy 
wight,  and  Will,  glancing  up  at  the  sun,  spake  : 
"Two  hours,  lads,  judge  I." 

"Nigher  three,  Tanner,  nigher  three!"  growled 
the  chief  mutterer. 

"Why  so  much  the  better,  Rafe,  though  two  was 
the  word.  Howbeit  we  be  come  far  enow,  I  judge, 
and  't  is  hot  I  judge,  so  hey  for  Robin  —  and  a 
draught  o'  perry !" 

"Art  thou  weary,  my  Yolande?" 

"Nay,  is  not  thy  dear  arm  about  me !" 

"And  —  thou  dost  love  me  indeed?" 

"Indeed,    Joconde !     Mine    is    a   love   that    ever 

groweth " 

A  horn's  shrill  challenge ;  a  sound  of  voices,  and 
below  them  opened  a  great,  green  hollow,  shady 
with  trees  beneath  whose  shade  were  huts  of  wattle 
cunningly  wrought,  a  brook  that  flowed  sparkling, 
and  beyond  caves  hollowed  in  the  steepy  bank. 

How  now,  Tanner  Will,"  questioned  Jocelyn, 
hast  brought  us  to  the  outlaw's  refuge?" 
"Not  so,  good  friend-Fool,  not  outlaws,  foresters 
we  of  Duke  Pertinax,  and  yonder,  look  'ee,  cometh 
Rob  —  Sir  Robert  to  greet  ye!"  And  the  Tanner 
pointed  where  one  came  running,  a  man  long  of  leg, 
long  of  arm  and  very  bright  of  eye,  a  goodly  man  clad 
in  hood  and  jerkin  of  neat's  leather  as  aforetime, 
only  now  his  bugle  swung  from  baldrick  of  gold  and 
silver  and  in  his  hood  was  brooched  a  long  scarlet 
feather. 

244 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

"What  brother!"  cried  he  joyously.  "By  saint 
Nicholas,  'tis  sweet  to  see  thee  again,  thou  lovely 
Fool!"  And  he  clasped  Jocelyn  in  brotherly  em- 
brace, which  done,  he  stood  off  and  shook  doleful 
head.  "Alas,  brother!"  quoth  he.  "Alas!  my 
prisoner  art  thou  this  day,  wherefor  I  grieve,  and 
wherefor  I  know  not  save  that  it  is  by  my  lady 
Benedicta's  strict  command  and  her  I  must  obey." 
And  now,  turning  to  Yolande,  he  bared  his  head, 
louting  full  low.  "Lady,"  quoth  he,  "by  thy  rare 
and  so  great  beauty  I  do  know  thee  for  Yolande  the 
Fair,  so  do  we  of  the  wild  give  thee  humble  greeting. 
Here  may'st  thou  rest  awhile  ere  we  bring  thee  to 
Canalise." 

"But,  messire,"  answered  Yolande,  clasping 
Jocelyn 's  hand,  "no  mind  have  I  to  go  to  Canalise." 

"Then  alack  for  me,  fair  lady,  for  needs  must  I 
carry  thee  there  within  the  hour  along  of  my  motley 
brother.  Meanwhile  here  within  yon  bower  thou 
shalt  find  cushions  to  thy  repose,  and  all  things  to 
thy  comfort  and  refreshment." 

"O  Sir  Robert !     O  for  a  comb  !"  she  sighed. 

"Expectant  it  waiteth  thee,  lady,  together  with 
water  cool,  sweet-perfumed  essences,  unguents  and 
other    nice,    lady-like    toys.     Moreover,    there    be 

mirrors  two  of  Venice  and  in  pretty  coffer  " 

But  Yolande  had  vanished. 

Hereupon  Robin  led  the  way  into  a  cool,  arras- 
hung  cave  where  was  table  set  out  with  divers 
comfortable  things  both  eatable  and  drinkable. 

Quoth  Jocelyn,  hunger  and  thirst  appeased : 
"And  now  good  Robin,  what  do  these  envoys  from 
Brocelaunde  ?  Why  am  I  thy  prisoner  and  where- 
fore must  I  to  Canalise?" 

"Ha!"  saith  Robin,  cocking  merry  eye,  "and 
thy  name  is  Joconde,  the  which  is  an  excellent  name, 

245 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

brother,  and  suiteth  thee  well,  and  yet  —  hum! 
Howbeit,  friend,  remember  Robin  loved  thee  for 
the  Fool  he  found  thee,  that  same  Fool  foolish  enow 
to  spare  a  rogue  his  life.  Dost  mind  my  Song  o* 
Rogues?  A  good  song,  methinks,  tripping  merrily 
o'  the  tongue : 

"'I  '11  sing  a  song 
Not  over  long, 
A  song  o'  roguery, 
For  I  'm  a  rogue, 
And  thou  'rt  a  rogue, 
And  so,  in  faith  is  he.' 

I  mind  thy  fierce,  hawk-nosed  gossip  in  rusty  jack 
and  ragged  cloak,  his  curses !  Troth  brother,  't  is 
a  world  of  change  methinks,  this  same  fierce,  cursing, 
hook-nose  rogue  a  noble  knight  and  to-day  my  lord 
Duke  !  I,  that  was  poor  outlaw,  knight-at-arms  and 
lord  warden,  and  thou  —  a  motley  Fool  still  —  and 
my  prisoner.     How  say'st  thou,  brother?" 

"Why  I  say,  Robin,  that  my  three  questions  wait 
thy  answers  !" 

"Verily,  brother,  and  for  this  reason.  I  am  a 
knight  and  noble,  and  so  being  have  learned  me 
policy,  and  my  policy  is,  when  unable  to  give  answer 
direct  to  question  direct,  to  question  myself  direct 
thus  directing  question  to  questions  other  or  to 
talk  of  matters  of  interest  universal,  so  do  I  of  thyself 
and  myself  speak.  And  talking  of  myself  I  have  on 
myself,  of  myself,  of  myself  made  a  song,  and  these 
the  words,  hark  'ee  : 

"Now  Rob  that  was  Robin  Sir  Robert  is  hight 
Though  Rob  oft  did  rob  when  outlaw, 
Since  outlaw  now  in  law  is  dubbed  a  good  knight, 
Robin's  robbing  is  done,  Rob  robbeth  no  more. 

246 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Fair  words  brother,  I  think,  and  yet  a  little  sad. 
*But,'  says  you  in  vasty  amaze,  'my  very  noble  and 
right  potent  Sir  Robert,'  says  you,  'if  thou  art  in- 
deed noble  knight,  wherefore  go  ye  devoid  of  mail, 
surcoat,  cyclas,  crested  helm,  banderol,  lance,  shield 
and  the  like  pomps  and  gauds?'  'Brother,'  says  I, 
*  habit  is  habit  and  habit  sticketh  habitual,  and  my 
habit  is  to  go  habited  as  suiteth  my  habit,  suiting 
habit  o'  body  to  habit  o'  mind.'  Thus  I,  though  Sir 
Robert,  am  Robin  still,  and  go  in  soft  leather  'stead 
of  chafing  steel,  and  my  rogues,  loving  Robin,  love 
Sir  Robert  the  better  therefor,  as  sayeth  my  song  in 
fashion  apt  and  pertinent : 

"Since  habit  is  habit,  my  habit  hath  been 
To  wear  habit  habitually  comely  — 

Ha,  there  soundeth  the  mustering  note,  so  must  we 
away  and  I  sing  no  further,  which  is  well,  for  '  comely ' 
is  an  ill  word  to  rhyme  with.  Howbeit  here  must  I, 
beginning  my  song  o'  Robin,  of  beginning  must  Rob 
make  an  end,  for  duty  calleth  Sir  Robert,  so  must 
Robin  away." 

Hereupon  he  clapped  horn  to  lip  at  which  shrill 
summons  came  archers  and  pikemen  ranked  very 
orderly  about  a  fair  horse-litter.  But  Yolande 
coming  radiant  from  the  bower  and  espying  the 
litter,  shook  her  head.  Quoth  she : 
.    "An  thou  go  afoot,  Joconde,  so  will  I." 

The  sun  was  low  when  they  came  before  the  walls 
of  Canalise,  and  passing  beneath  grim  portcullis 
and  through  frowning  gateway,  with  ring  and  tramp, 
crossed  the  wide  market  square  a-throng  with 
jostling  townsfolk,  who  laughed  and  pointed,  cheered 
and  hooted,  staring  amain  at  Jocelyn  in  his  thread- 
bare motley ;    but  Yolande,  fronting  all  eyes  with 

247 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

proud  head  aloft,  drew  nearer  and  held  his  hand  in  > 
firmer  clasp. 

Thus  they  came  at  last  to  the  great  courtyard 
before  the  palace,  bright  with  the  glitter  of  steel, 
where  men-at-arms  stood  mustered.  Here  Robin 
halted  his  company,  whereon  rose  the  silvery  note 
of  a  clarion,  and  forth  paced  the  dignified  Chief 
Herald,  who  spake  him  full-toned  and  sonorous  : 

"In  the  name  of  our  potent  Duke  Pertinax  and 
his  gracious  lady  Benedicta,  I  greet  thee  well,  Sir 
Robert-a-Forest.  Now  whom  bring  ye  here?  Pro- 
nounce !" 

"Dan  Merriment,  Sir  Gravity,"  answered  Robin, 
"a  Fool  valiant  and  wise,  a  maker  of  songs,  of  quips 
and  quiddities  many  and  jocund,  Joconde  hight. 
Sir  Wisdom,  Folly  behold,  himself  here  in  propria 
persona." 

The  Chief  Herald  gestured  haughtily  with  his 
wand  whereupon  forth  stepped  a  file  of  soldiers  and 
surrounded  Jocelyn. 

"Ah,  Joconde!  What  meaneth  this?"  said 
Yolande,  in  troubled  voice. 

"Indeed,  my  lady,  I  know  not!"  he  answered. 
"But  let  not  thy  brave  heart  fail  thee." 

"Ah,  Joconde,  I  fear  for  thee  —  whither  would 
they  lead  thee?  Nay,  sweet  heaven,  they  shall  not 
take  thee  from  me  !" 

"Fear  not,  beloved,  though  they  part  us  awhile." 

"Away  with  the  Motley!"  thundered  the  Chief 
Herald,  flourishing  his  wand. 

"Yolande  —  O  my  beloved,  fear  not  "     But 

even  as  he  spake,  the  pikemen  closed  in,  and  Jocelyn 
was  hustled  away;  so  stood  she  trembling,  hands 
clasped  and  eyes  wide  and  fearful,  until  tall  motley 
figure  and  flaunting  cock's-comb  were  lost  to  her 
sight  and  the  jingle  of  his  bells  had  died  away ;  then, 

248 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

finding  herself  alone  and  all  men's  eyes  upon  her, 
she  lifted  bowed  head  and  stood  white-cheeked  and 
proudly  patient,  waiting  for  what  might  betide. 

And  presently  was  distant  stir  that,  growing  nearer, 
swelled  to  the  ring  and  clash  of  armour  and  the 
trampling  of  many  hoofs ;  and  presently  through 
the  great  gateway  rode  many  knights  sumptuously 
caparisoned,  their  shields  brave  with  gilded  'scutch- 
eons, pennon  and  bannerole  a-flutter  above  nodding 
plumes,  and  over  all  the  Red  Raven  banner  of 
Brocelaunde.  So  rode  they  two-and-two  until  the 
great  courtyard  blazed  with  flashing  steel  and 
broidered  surcoats.  And  now  a  trumpet  blared,  and 
forth  before  this  glorious  array  a  pursuivant  rode 
and  halted  to  behold  Pertinax,  who  stepped  forth 
of  the  great  banqueting-hall  leading  his  fair  Duchess 
by  the  hand,  and  behind  them  courtiers  and  ladies 
attendant. 

Once  again  the  trumpets  rang,  and  lifting  his  hand, 
the  pursuivant  spake : 

"My  Lord  Duke  Pertinax,  most  gracious  Duchess, 
Jocelyn  the  high  and  mighty  Lord  Duke  of  Broce- 
launde greeteth  you  in  all  love  and  amity,  and  hither 
rideth  to  claim  a  fair  lady  to  wife.  Behold  our  Lord 
Duke  Jocelyn  !" 

Loud  and  long  the  trumpets  blew  as  into  the  court- 
yard rode  a  single  horseman  ;  tall  was  he  and  bedight 
in  plain  black  armour  and  white  surcoat  whereon 
the  Red  Raven  glowed ;  but  his  face  was  hid  in 
vizored  helm.  So  rode  he  through  his  glorious  array 
of  knights,  checking  his  fiery  steed  to  gentle  gait 
with  practised  hand,  while  thus  spake  the  pursuivant : 

"Behold  here  Jocelyn,  Duke  of  Brocelaunde,  to 
claim  this  day  in  marriage  the  Lady  Yolande  ac- 
cording to  her  word." 

"Stay,  my  lords  !"   cried  a  sweet,  clear  voice,  and 

249 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

forth  before  them  all  stood  Yolande  herself,  pale- 
cheeked  but  stately  of  bearing  and  very  bright  of 
eye. 

"Be  it  known  to  all  here  that  I,  Yolande,  have 
given  neither  pledge  nor  troth  unto  Duke  Joce- 
lyn " 

Now  here  was  silence  sudden  and  profound  that 
none  dared  break  saving  only  the  haughty  Chief 
Herald. 

"How  lady,  how,"  quoth  he,  "no  pledge,  no  troth, 
quotha " 

"Neither  one  nor  other,  messire,  nor  shall  there 
ever  be " 

"Here  is  madness,  lady,  madness " 

"Here  is  truth,  messire,  truth;  I  may  not  pledge 
my  troth  with  Duke  Jocelyn  since  I  have  this  day 
pledged  myself  unto  Duke  Jocelyn's  jester " 

"Jester,  lady,  jester?  Venus  aid  us  —  Cupid 
shield  us !  A  jester,  a  Fool,  a  motley  mountebank, 
a " 

"Aye !"  cried  Yolande.  "All  this  is  he,  my  lords. 
Very  humble  and  lowly  —  yet  do  I  love  him  !  Oh, 
't  is  joy  —  't  is  joy  to  thus  confess  my  love  —  his  cap 
and  bells  and  motley  livery  are  fairer  to  me  than 
velvet  mantle  or  knightly  armour ;  he  is  but  humble 
jester,  a  Fool  for  men's  scorn  or  laughter,  yet  is  he 
a  man,  so  do  I  love  him  and  so  am  I  his  —  unto  the 
end.  My  lords,  I  have  no  more  to  say  save  this  — 
give  me  my  jester  —  this  man  I  love  —  and  suffer 
us  to  go  forth  hand  in  hand  together,  even  as  we 


came." 


The  Duchess  Benedicta  uttered  a  soft,  glad  cry, 
and  seizing  her  husband's  arm,  shook  it  for  very 
joy.  But  now,  as  Yolande  fronted  them  all,  pale 
and  proudly  defiant,  was  the  ring  of  a  mailed  foot, 
and   turning,    she   shrank   trembling   to   see   Duke 

250 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

Jocelyn  hasting  toward  her,  his  black  armour  glint- 
ing, his  embroidered  surcoat  fluttering,  his  long  arms 
outstretched  to  her ;  thus  quick-striding  he  came  but, 
even  as  she  put  out  shaking  hands  to  stay  him,  he 
fell  upon  his  knee  before  her. 

"Most  brave  and  noble  lady  —  beloved  Yolande," 
he  cried,  and  lifted  his  vizor.  Now  beholding  the 
scarred  face  of  him,  the  tender,  smiling  lips,  the 
adoration  in  his  grey  eyes,  she  trembled  amain  and, 
swaying  to  him,  rested  her  hands  on  his  mailed 
shoulders. 

"Joconde,"  she  whispered,  "ah,  Joconde  —  what 
dream  is  this?" 

"Nay,  beloved,  the  dream  is  ended  and  findeth 
me  here  at  thy  feet.  The  dream  is  past  and  we  do 
wake  at  last,  for  thy  motley  Fool,  thy  Duke  and 
lover  am  I,  yet  lover  most  of  all.  And  thou  who  in 
thy  divine  mercy  stooped  to  love  the  Fool,  by  that 
same  love  shalt  thou  lift  Duke  Jocelyn  up  to  thee 
and  heaven  at  last.  And  Oh,  methinks  the  memory 
of  thy  so  great  and  noble  love  shall  be  a  memory 
fragrant  everlastingly." 

So  speaking,  Duke  Jocelyn  rose,  and  with  her 
hand  fast  in  his,  looked  from  her  loveliness  round 
about  him,  blithe  of  eye. 

"My  lords,"  cried  he,  "behold  my  well-beloved, 
brave-hearted  lady.  Nobles  of  Brocelaunde,  salute 
your  Duchess  Yolande." 

Hereupon  was  shout  on  shout  of  joyous  acclaim, 
lost  all  at  once  in  the  sweet,  glad  clamour  of  bells 
pealing  near  and  far;  so,  hand  in  hand,  while  the 
air  thrilled  with  this  merry  riot,  they  crossed  the 
wide  courtyard,  and  she  flushed  'neath  the  worship 
of  his  look  and  he  thrilled  to  the  close,  warm  pressure 
of  her  fingers  —  thus  walked  they  betwixt  the  ranks  of 
men-at-arms  and  glittering  chivalry,  yet  saw  them  not. 

251 


The  Geste  of  Duke  Jocelyn 

But  now  Yolande  was  aware  of  Benedicta's  arms 
about  her  and  Benedicta's  voice  in  her  ear. 

"Dear  my  Yolande,  so  True-love  hath  found  thee 
at  last  since  thou  wert  brave  indeed  and  worthy. 
Come  now  and  let  me  deck  thee  to  thy  bridal." 

"Lord  Duke,"  quoth  Pertinax,  "here  methinks 
was  notable,  worthy  wooing." 

"Aha!"  quoth  Mopsa  the  Witch,  crackling  her 
knuckle-bones.  "Here,  my  children,  is  wooing  that 
some  fool  shall  strive  to  tell  tale  of  some  day,  may- 
hap ;  but  such  love  is  beyond  words  and  not  to  be 
told.  Thus  by  cunning  contrivement  hath  Mopsa 
the  old  Witch  proved  the  true  from  the  false,  the 
gold  from  the  dross  ;  thou,  my  lady,  hast  proved  thy 
love  indeed,  and  thou,  Lord  Duke,  may  nevermore 
doubt  such  love.  And  now  away  and  wed  each 
other  to  love's  fulfilment  —  hark  where  the  bells  do 
summon  ye." 

And  thus,  as  evening  fell,  they  were  wed  within 
the  great  Minster  of  Canalise,  and  thereafter  came 
they  to  the  banqueting-hall  with  retinue  of  knights 
and  nobles.  Last  of  all  strode  Robin  with  his 
foresters,  and  as  they  marched  he  sang  a  song  he 
had  learned  of  Jocelyn,  and  these  the  words  : 

"What  is  love?     'T  is  this,  I  say, 
Flower  that  springeth  in  a  day, 
Ne'er  to  die  or  fade  away, 
Since  True-love  dieth  never. 

"Though  youth  alas  !  too  soon  shall  wane, 
Though  friend  prove  false  and  effort  vain, 
True-love  all  changeless  shall  remain 
The  same  to-day  and  ever." 

The  End 


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